I was gonna kill myself anyway if my life continues to not work out despite my best efforts. Just a few more years of keeping up the futile charade, jumping through hoops in pursuit of a career I’ll never be good at or come close to achieving probably, and huffing the hopium while engaging in parasocial online forum participation as a substitute for real friendship until it all nevitably falls apart or blows up in my face like it always does. The alternative is just killing myself right now and that’s scary and I don’t want to until I have no choice. But I can only take being the lowliest, most fucked up loser on the planet and being treated like it and having it shoved in my face by everyone every fucking day everywhere I go for so long while also totally cut off from human relationships and literally everything that makes life meaningful and worthwhile before I break down. People are nicer to homeless people than they are to me. As long as I keep fighting to live, they fight even harder to keep me down to use as a punching bag. My life is like an old junker car, sometimes it works and sometimes it says to get fucked. But at the end of the day it’s still a piece of shit, running or not. Like my actual car.