I just hate myself. I think I just have fit too tightly into this miserable mold of my life, and anyone else placed into my shoes would've just killed themselves a long time ago and saved themselves the trouble.
Though really this is just one of my moods again, I'm going to sleep soon.
In recent news, I'm squaring and corning myself into an objective this time, something to aim my aimless life at, and that's to actually break out into a residence of my own. Though the idea is still scary, and I'm not sure what I'd do from there, it's the idea of adding arbitrary elements into my life to potentially give it meaning.
This is going to be an expensive endeavor, I'm looking for a possible roommate, but the idea of rooming with a stranger is terrifying. Just terrifying, but it's not like I have anyone else. Every person is just a new bundle of problems wrapped in flesh, and I know they have an inalienably greater right to personhood than I do. That's the painful part of even being in public, I know everyone else stands on a greater terrace than I do, just looking people in the eye feels dishonest on my part, like I'm simply pretending to be an equal in this terrible society.
I'm utterly disgusted with myself for telling my therapist that I wanted to kill myself, but it was just the simplest explanation for my feelings. I could have worded it better, something along the lines of just objectively feeling my life is worthless, and that such a life has no value in the world, and thus it doesn't matter whether I'm existing or not, and therefore I'd prefer to not exist. It's hard to articulate that into words though, when someone's speaking to you, and I didn't even think to properly write it down, when I WAS writing things down. Just disgusting, just insufferable, it's been biting at my conscience all week. I'll have to make reparations.
I'm off to bed now. I have work again tonight. It's a lonely and isolating job, like all other aspects of my life, but I guess someone has to do it.