To be perfectly blunt: YES, not just sometimes, but on a daily basis at this point in my life. Some days, on an hourly basis.
I often, very often, terribly too often, gravitate toward the increasingly attractive idea of my own extinction. Not necessarily as an act of suicide (or self-euthanizing as I think of it), which is not something I am seriously contemplating at present, but more so as a fantastical act of disappearance. I just want life to stop. I relish the thought almost every night of how beautiful it would be if I fell asleep and simply never woke up again— just slipped peacefully and unknowingly out of this lonely existence that has long been reduced to little more than a sterile reservoir of inordinate, inestimable, and absolutely intolerable pain.
I do not wish to willfully actuate my own extermination. To the extent that I am the writer of my own life story, which is sadly limited of course because I would eagerly rewrite most of it if I could, I do not want to end my unhappy story by authoring my own demise. I would much prefer for things to turn out differently. I just highly doubt they will. And as it stands basically every day is nothing more than another anguished exercise in futilty— beginning, taking course, and ending in the same hapless and joyless loneliness as the day before. There is no yesterday and there is no tomorrow for me. It’s all the same pointless day. And I am sick of doing it over and over.
I don’t want to do today again. I would much prefer falling asleep and waking up with an entirely new life altogether or else never waking up again at all.
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