Meaning

I'm on my second failed attempt this month going for number three sooner or later. I was 17 when I spent what was supposed to be the last bit of my senior year bed ridden. Couldn't keep food down, my stomach became partially paralyzed. By the time I graduated online I immediately had to jump back into work, my father needed rent. I got out on my own, it seemed better to try at life than let my health debilitate me. Slowly I knew things were getting worse. I got kicked off my families insurance, so I kept pushing on. Got married to a childhood friend at 18. I took care of her, working my ass off at whatever job I could, frequently ending up in the ER then right back to work. Due to her mental health and my physical we kept garnering debt, living in a camper and eventually homeless. I got her into a mental hospital, where we eventually separated when I expressed my needs. I've been busted for crap like no taillights or insurance several times in the past, after the divorce I got pulled over for a taillight and got caught for a DUI. I was living in that van so they repossessed my home, for the first time in years I'm down south living with my Mom. I'm 6'2 120 lbs, chronic pain constantly, I haven't had hope in a long time to get the medical help I need, nonetheless the completely ignored mental health like bipolar, court issues looking like it will further take away any hopes of getting better, and right back into destroying my body. Working like I have lately has left me struggling to walk in my off times, usually just hunched over listening to music trying to let my body ease. I used to sing and play guitar for hours on end daily now I'm lucky if my body let's me get a single song out. She made it worth it, now while I have friends and family it doesn't make up for the pain. Once upon a time there was incoherence in my suicidal nature. Now it feels ingrained in common rational thought. For once when I was freaking out, I didn't jump to suicide, I used the knife to try to express my pain. I wanted a pain that was finally my own that showed, unfortunately it doesn't compare to the chronic pain. I was drunk, bought the wrong chemical composition when I failed, but I don't plan to make the same mistake again. I don't know how many more days I have left but soon the day is coming where I won't wake up. And it won't be painful. I suppose posting here may be a contradiction to my confident nature. Maybe there's something I'm missing. I've always given my all for the world often getting little in return. I try to think back on what I must have done to end up in this state and beyond the divorce there's not much that comes to mind. Sure some are born lucky and some are not but even growing up my school days from kindergarten forward was debt, a half dead from different cancers mother and an absent father. In every story in every aspect of life things are born to die. At least with suicide I have choice, I can have made two decisions that were wholly my own in my life and not based on societal or governmental pressure. To get married and to die by my own means not by this world damning me to the grave. Who knows if anyone will read this rambling, I'll be heading to work soon. If anyone comments I'll try to respond. Reddit has always been filled with good-hearted OP's so thank you, no matter how cursed of an app you can be. Maybe in death I'll finally feel at peace yet again. Farewell Adieu and Amen.