I wrote a suicide note tonight.
There aren’t words that exist to tell my kids how much I love them and how sorry I am for killing myself….So I can’t do it. I can’t kill myself.
Well, that’s partly the reason.
My son came home. I was watching a movie where a man picked up a child and remembered what it felt like to have a child’s arms around your neck….These stop me too.
I don’t want to be in this world anymore. But I can’t stand the idea of my children thinking I don’t love them, or what may happen to them if their mother takes her own life.
It’s such a rock and a hard place to be between….I hate living, but I can’t leave my kids.
My mood today probably isn’t helped by what I’ve been watching on Netflix. I’ve been watching Shameless (the more recent one with William H. Macy). And in this show, these people have people who love them, despite how completely fucked up they are. It’s my lack of being loved by someone (who isn’t a blood relative) that makes me hurt the most. No one sticks with me. No friends or lovers. If someone would just stick with me, maybe I wouldn’t feel despair all the time.
I’ve been trying to get back to God, but it’s hard to believe He could still love me, despite my tattoo.
I put it on the arm I tend to cut to remind me that God loves me even when it seems like no one else does. But now, I just don’t know.