I broke down inside my workplace’s bathroom.

I feel so lame.

I was speaking with a coworker, everything was fine. I went to the bathroom and as soon as I closed the door, I started crying. I full on broke down. And I kept on repeating “I want to go home. I want to kill myself.” And I felt so damn frustrated and unhappy and so, so scared and sad. I felt miserable.

I wanted nothing more than take the bleach bottle under the sink and swallow its contents whole.

There’s this Hamilton lyric, actually, there are a lot but this is the one I relate to more at the moment:

“I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory.”

And I do, don’t I? I think I’ve been ready to die since I was fourteen years old, and “I never thought I’d live past twenty”, I’m twenty now. Will I see my twenty first? I don’t know. I don’t think so. I hope I won’t.

I hope I won’t live past tomorrow.

 

 

I want to die.

 

P.D.: Yes, I know it’s the Hamilton lyric on a Les Mis picture.

 

 

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