A letter from Nov 05, 2023

Dear FutureMe, Hi, hello, g'day. I hope you're doing ok. I really do. The me that's writing this? Not so much. I really hope you're somewhere good in your life. I'm really sad, future me. Really sad, and in a really not good headspace. I can't see a point in staying alive. All life seems to be is doing little tasks that bring entertainment or distraction, until the next task comes along. And I just don't see a point in continuing that process. It's so linear, and in the end it's meaningless. I find it hard to believe that people don't care about me, that they would rather spend time with literally anybody else rather than me, because they all believe the gossip and the slander and don't want to spend the time getting to know the real me. I'm sorry that I'm not fun, or that I'm awkward to be around, or that I say and do weird things. That doesn't mean I'm undeserving of friendship. How much longer can I put up with this? It's a strange kind of loneliness, this feeling of misunderstood. I don't want to live anymore. I can never seem to progress in my life. I'm god**** 30 years old, and not really any better off than when I was 25, than when I was 20. Still broke as ****, still living in temporary living arrangements that I can never truely call home. Still living paycheck to paycheck and barely having enough to get by. I thought I had finally done something good and finally managed to get a new to me vehicle that wasn't breaking the law, and it got taken away from me by someone else's careless driving. That I had spent what little savings I had scrounged together over time on this old van that I was so proud of, that I could live in it without having to worry about being a burden to anyone, that I wouldn't have to pay rent for the foreseeable future, and that I could maybe save up enough for something else that could get me another step ahead in life. I'm finding it difficult to not believe that it's life saying I don't deserve to get ahead, and that I will never get ahead, so why should I bother living to old age, if this is all it's going to be? I don't want to spend the remainder of my life like this. 31 year old me, is your life really any better off? I've started to go to counselling for the first time in my life. The doctor has given me medication that is supposed to even out dopamine and seratonin. But I still feel awful. I research explosives to learn how to blow myself up. I think of ways to gas myself to *****. I look at trees and think what a beautiful tree that I could die under, swinging gently in the Spring breeze. I wonder who would be the first to arrive, I wonder if I would be dead by then, I wonder who would say to themselves that they wish they had helped, when I cried to them that I need help and they ignored it. There's not much resistance to die left in me, and I worry that it's running out, like liquid through a funnel, drip by drip til there's none left at all. I really hope you're doing better than me, Future Me. I love you. I hope you have peace within yourself, the kind that I am finding myself without.