I'm actually about to post this to random people on the internet. That's how far I've fallen.
I have really no reason to continue living, but I do mostly out of bitterness and spite. My goal in life is to become an elementary school teacher (that's what I'm majoring in in college right now). I don't see any real inherent value in human life.
Yes, I'm planning on becoming a teacher with an attitude like that.
At least I have a goal now. Between the ages of 13 to... oh, say, 23 or so, my only goal in life was to get as fucked up as possible on every drug and liquor known to man. Hell, when I was a teenager, I did drugs that even I
didn't know what they were.
I have no friends. None whatsover, and I really never have (apart from my wife... more on that later). I am fairly large, ugly, and disturbing, and I tend to make everyone around me hate me. I know this because people have told me this to my face. The only people who ever spent any time around me for any length of time are people who were using my house as a place to get drunk, do drugs, and have sex. See, when I was 14 or so, my mother got into the habit of disappearing for weeks at a time over to her boyfriend's house to... well, do drugs and have sex. Lack of parental supervision tends to attract the wrong sort of people. I had my Super Nintendo stolen, along with my Nintendo 64, four
Playstations, two Playstation 2's, countless clothes, pipes, money, and CD's. But I didn't really care. Well... having to occasionally go months eating nothing but ramen wasn't fun. Oh, a couple of times I had to eat mustard packets, because even the ramen had run out. My mother wouldn't come home, even if I told her I had no food, but she'd be home in no time if I told her the cat was out of food. I had to eat cat food a couple times. That stuff tastes terrible.
Oh, and whenever she was not
high, she tended to do things like beat me over the head and scream things like "I could have gone to college if it wasn't for you!" and "I should have just had an abortion when I had the chance!" At first chance, I moved out, but went broke and had to move back for a year. During this year, I was not allowed in the house when they weren't there, and often found myself locked out in the garage with a milk jug to piss in.
That's all in the past, though. I haven't spoken to my mother since about 2003. Or the rest of my family, as a matter of fact. They all stopped talking to me when they found out I was on drugs. I don't do drugs anymore, though. I don't need to, since now I can buy alcohol freely. "Alcohol tests" don't exist to prevent you from getting jobs, and I don't need friends to buy alcohol, and it accomplishes the same effect.
Anyway, between then and now, I've attempted suicide six times. Never successfully, obviously. I was planning to make a seventh attempt in 2007, but instead I met the girl who would eventually become my wife. We married in 2009, and since then, I have treated her like absolute shit. I scream at her, I insult her, I hit her on a fairly regular basis. Really, the only reason I haven't committed suicide already is because she would be sad if I did. But she'll leave me eventually. It would be for her own good. And then that'll be it. Game over. Goodbye, cruel world and all those cliches. My mother will probably bawl her eyes out and use it to get sympathy from all the drunks at the bar, like she always does with anything
- she's still convinced, in her deranged little version of reality, that she was the ideal, perfect mother, and that I was nothing but a cross to bear. The rest of my family will likely just sigh and shake their heads and complain and bitch about the cost of having to have my carcass cremated and what a pain in the ass it is, just like they did when my uncle killed himself. Hopefully, my wife will hate me by then and think Good Riddance. No one else will give a shit. No, don't say that you
will give a shit. You don't know me.
And really, there's no reason for anyone to
give a shit. I hate everything
, I really wouldn't care if everyone dropped dead tomorrow. I will likely not make any contribution to the world, and even if I did, I'm only one man and I can't stop the endless spiral of shit that the world is falling into. I want to be a teacher? What am I going to do, tell little Billy, "Aw, that's sweet, you want to be an artist. You know that artists never make any money unless they rent themselves out to corporations for graphic design, and most die completely broke." Tell little Tyrone, "Aw, you want to be an astronaut! You realize you have to join the military for that, you know. And you'll have to have excellent math and science skills, which you won't get because you're stuck learning in this shithole city public school." Or tell little Jennifer, "You want to be President, that's so cute! You realize it'll be a cold day in hell before this backwards-ass country elects a female President." Even if I managed to keep my negative outlook under check, I'm not, how do you say, politically correct or socially inclined in any way, so eventually I'd probably get fired.
So, when it comes down to it, the world actually would
be better off if I were dead. At worst, it would keep me from destroying the dreams of any student who had the misfortune of getting me as a teacher.
Oh, and one last thing - I'm a pedophile. My wife? She's nine years younger than me. I met her when she was 15 and married her exactly one month after her 18th birthday.
So there you go. I don't know why I wrote all that, but I did. There's shit in there I've never told anyone
in real life. Probably because I'm curious to see what a suicide help forum will say when confronted by a real piece of shit like me.
Don't go telling me to get professional help either - if I ever told anyone in real life the shit I've posted here, I'd be locked up. And that would be a fate worse than death.