The Epitamy of Lack-of-Knowledge

I think that there's a moment in our lives when we realize that we have no idea what we're doing. And none of us really know where to go from there. So to keep from falling into an unknown abyss, we keep going with whatever shot-to-hell plan we had before we even started and end up in a place where we're unhappy and resentful. Is there any way around this? I don't know. I'm still at the rock bottom stage of the i-have-no-idea-what-I'm-doing stage of my life. It's very stressful. Even to the point of suicidal-ism. But that's nothing new for me of course. Major depressive with suicidal tendencies, that's my official diagnosis. I attempted four times in the past. The only reason I didn't attempt two days ago when I wanted to, was because I was too lazy to get out of bed and get the knife. I wanted to so badly though. I just kept sobbing and saying it over and over again, “i wish I were dead, I wish I were dead.” I just wish there were a way to do it that were painless and I could blame it on someone else. That's why lately, when I cross the street, part of me just wants to stop and let the next semi run me down. But even then, i'm scared of answering for it in front of God. Maybe it's blasphemous to say this, but I wish I could forget about God. All those people who don't know him and who do stupid things, they have it so much easier than I do. I live every day of my life for someone else who doesn't even answer my questions half the time. And maybe i'm just not listening hard enough. But the truth is, i'm just tired. Of life. Of everything. I'm tired. I'm exhausted. I have constant bags under my eyes and an ache in my back and a pain in my head. I'm frickin tired. And death is the ultimate sleep. That's the equation in my head. Death= sleep, which =less headaches and heartaches for me. But then I remember the good times. And even though at this point in my depressive state, those memories can't make me smile, they can help me to remember the feeling of happiness. How good it is. And how much more of it there is to come. Sometimes I just wonder if it's worth it though. It's so hard being on my own, having a job that barely pays for anything, having roommates who are so negative, a family that doesn't care whether I make it or not in this world. I'm scared. Thats the truth of it. What if I don't make it? What will happen to me? I can't move back home or I WILL kill myself. I can't find any cheaper housing than this. I can't get another, or a better, job until I get a car so I can go across town, but I can't get a car until I get a better job. I just don't know what to do. I'm lost. I'm walled in by hopelessness. I can't find any optimism here. I just keep going day by day, hoping that i'm on the right track, not knowing where this track, or the next will lead me. I don't know which way is up and which is down. I'm just.... floating. Flailing my arms helplessly, trying so hard to see some light but being denied at every turn. I don't know what to do. Where to go. Who to be. Nothing. I am the epitamy of lack-of-knowledge. And it's lonely here. Sometimes I just wish for the guts to be able to kill myself. Or to be more outgoing, or to be able to do fucking anything. But I'm not, I don't have those things. I'm a lazy, hopeless, sad, confused loser. And there is no recovery from that. 

looking back on this letter three weeks later, i feel very much the same as i did when i wrote this. since i wrote this, i have cut myself. i haven't attempted suicide, though the pull towards it is nearly unbearable. two of my friends have committed suicide in the past two weeks, and another died by a horrible accident. i can't imagine why it is everyone in the world, it seems, is feeling so down. maybe it's simply a ripple effect started by the first suicide four months ago in a nearby town. maybe that suicide got people in the mood. all i know is that i promised someone a long long time ago that i would never willingly take my own life, and i'm not one to break my promises. 

i've made lots of decisions since writing that last letter. i am leaving my job, my college, my apartment, and my town. i am moving back into my parents house at the age of 18. i am.... sad, i suppose. i feel a bit like a failure. i'm scared that being in that environment will pull me down even farther, but i know that the financial security that will come with it is more valuable. i won't be paying rent or bills anymore. my mom thinks she can help me get a job at a local elementary school as an assistant teacher. that's a better paying job than i've ever had in my life. maybe then i can finally buy a car. i'll save up enough money to be able to get a really good start next year, or even next semester. maybe i'll move into an apartment all by myself so i don't have needy, negative roommates to answer to at the end of the day. who knows? life can only go up from here. i hope.