I sleep a lot.
It's soothing. I don't have to think, when I'm awake. Technically.
Before, I'd spend every night, before I fell asleep, thinking about ways to die. I thought it would prove to everyone how important I was, if I was gone. I realise now that, I was just a selfish little girl.
I now have more practical reasons for wanting to die. I have tragic events to blame it on, and mental illness to blame it on, and so on.
I might be ready, to do it. I won't, until I'm absolutely sure I can go through with it, and have no regrets.. But I'm close to that point as it is.
It just feels right to me.
I'm not trying to be cowardly, or run from my problems.. I just don't want to live anymore. I feel like I've been waiting for this, for years now. This feeling I have. It's like I'm at peace with myself, finally.
I'm ready to go.
But there's still that nagging feeling, in the pit of my stomach, like there's something keeping me here. I can't shake it. It won't disappear.
I'm giving this as much thought as I possibly can, at the moment. I feel sort of sad, sometimes, but it might be for the best.
I'm not going to be quick about this, either. I'm taking my time, and trying to figure out if life has anything left to offer me. I'll give it awhile, and a few more thoughts, and perhaps give myself more options..
I'm probably done writing, now. I'm beginning to feel sick.