Having kind of a hard time today.
I'm in a weird place between nostalgia and melancholy. Been listening to 90s music and remembering bittersweet memories from high school, and I can't help but realize what a complete failure my life is. People can say stuff like "You're not a failure, you still have life, which is always worth something!". But is it?
What worth is a life when you can't live? When all you can do is sit around inside your house, in constant pain, chronic loneliness, and perpetual anxiety because any time someone walks by your front door you are terrified they will knock on it and you will be forced to socialize when you feel like if you were forced to make small-talk it would kill you? When you can't even leave your house- both for reasons of pain and fatigue AND for reasons of not having the money to go anywhere anyway. Can't work, have no friends left, and can't get sicknesses taken care of, so you just sit around in pain, wishing you were dead.
Would you want to live a life like that? Would suicide not be one of your ideal solutions then?
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