I was once alive on earth

all of my posts have been extremely, overwhelmingly angsty. They'll continue to be so, because that's how it is for me

I keep relapsing, which is like, so completely immature and annoying for me. I can't quite get it out of my head that I'm too incapable of anything. I try sometimes, not really. . . I still avoid, and fail. Everything is hard for me. . . I wish I were smart. No, really, I think I just wish that I were happy. I'm never happy, I'm always dwelling on something quite awful. Like my inability to do, or let go. Or that thing I so desperately want to get back. The only time that I can write now is when it's self deprecating suicidal ideation nonsense, it's like I'm convinced that it will bring me closer when I know it won't, all I'm doing is embarrassing myself. I feel like my twelve year old self so much, with everything that's been happening. I'm not even sure I can completely grasp what I mean by that. I think it would be better if I died, I think it would also be better if I started privately writing in a diary again

I don't really find this self-loathing fun, but it's just too familiar not to always come back to. . . I think it's what I stem from, I think it comes from my early childhood, and I think it's really weird, how in and out of myself I feel. I really wish that my words could connect to someone, unfortunately though I'm just too stupid. I'm very stupid and out of place. I want to talk about something meaningful, but I'm too busy being too fucking stupid

for a little while, I tried to force myself to be something that I'm not, but I don't really think it works that way, not really . . . I don't think that it can be done by force, I'm unsure of why I did to begin with. . . I've shown myself time and time again the extent of my capabilities, I can't do anything. I can't do anything, so I don't understand why I don't just die. I wanted to do something, but I can't. it's really really funny actually, it's so funny. I try to avoid it by retreating inside of myself and thinking of the past, but it doesn't work

It also can't help that I'm not someone I so desperately want to be, and mimic constantly. It'll never happen. even as I'm typing this, I'm wondering how I can mimic a certain style of behavior and you can't. I'm not even smart enough to reword my suicidality in a way that draws meaning or is poetic, at the very least

last year, when I kept attempting to kill myself, I think I must have called the suicide hotline over five times in the span of two weeks, and only about three times did I actually speak to someone... which I just want to mention, were mostly bad experiences apart from one. I talked to a man, who I still remember the name of. he said that I sound like I have a lot going for me, that he knows life is hard but to "essentially fake it until you make it" along with some other nonsense. In the moment it was nice to hear, but really, he was just doing his job. being paid anywhere from 15 to 20 dollars an hour to tell someone not to kill themselves, I am pro euthanasia, actually. for the rest of the hour that I spent talking to him, he spent rambling about who knows what. I imagined he was trying to meet some sort of quota, or maybe he was just trying to help me down from where I was. I started thinking of this because I was going to try calling last night, but ended up not. I couldn't find a point in it

being so stuck and stunted and fixated on the past takes such a toll on me, I don't want to do anything. not besides go back. as time passes, nothing about the future feels at all clear. but you're **supposed** to do something, you're **supposed** to want to do something. It's meant to be clear, but for me it isn't. I do everything poorly, without a single skill, like an idiot bound and gagged with no capacity for speech, denied any hint of what it means to be a person, but I do it with such persistence and passion, that's why I sometimes forget how stupid I am. It's like magic, and it's all very true. . . i can't even be sad about this, or deny it, because it's true 

whatever, whatever, none of this matters, but will someone please get me out of here?