Just Trying to Put Into Words on Some of the Thoughts I'm Having

Why am I mentally ill? Why was I ever born? Why can't I be normal?

I forgot about the suicidal thoughts for a while, but I guess it was just too good to be true. Now they're back and they're haunting me. I've never considered hanging because it would be a horrific scene when my body's discovered. Never considered cutting because it would be too messy. Now, I just want it to be done with. I remember when I tried to overdose, there was just nothingness. Life after death must not be real. Maybe. I wouldn't want another life after I'm done with this one. What if I just walk in a dark alley and have someone stab me? It may be a good idea, but it's less likely to happen. Davao is considered the safest city, after all. Or maybe that has changed since Duterte's regime.

I'd go back to art for its therapeutic effect against all this. However, I don't have a desk to draw on anymore. My room is really messy and I do not have motivation to clean it all up. The moldy vomit in the trash bin is still there. The smell when you come into the room whiffs your nose.

I don't want to go back to the shrink. I don't want to say the same things every session over and over again and have her tell me the same things repeatedly. I don't like the way how she wants us to think of a solution of how to solve this mess. I just want her to tell me directly the solution, and none of those shenanigans. I don't want to spend money on that. I'm tired of taking meds, which I've already stopped for 3 months now, and tried to overdose on last month.

I marked my calendar yesterday. I don't think it would work out. The universe conspires to prevent it. Maybe, by some miracle, it would all work out. Why does everything happen they way they do? I really wish I wasn't born so I wouldn't have to deal with all of this shit.