If you love me, let me go. Please don't ask me to continue as I am. When simply existing hurts. When living life, smiling, laughing, behaving as if everything is fine chips away painfully at my soul. There's not a lot left, you know.
Lord, I hope you never have to feel this way.
Do you know how often I think of death? How I long for a fatal accident? How wistfully I think of sleeping forever? Do you know how many times a day the thought that I might take my own life comes unbidden into my mind? I don't like these thoughts. I don't want them. At the very least they are all small betrayals of those I love. At most they're blasphemous, a 'Screw you, you haven't fixed me yet, bet it's just because you can't' to God.
But I hurt so badly. I'm dying on the inside, slowly, and very painfully. Some days I feel closer than others. And I've done this 'living death' before. I don't want to do it again. Please don't ask that of me.
If you love me, let me go.
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