I'm genuinely convinced that I am worthless

I am so tired of everything, and most of all - myself. Every time I feel exhausted, I tell myself, "I need to go rest", then immediately after "Go fuck yourself with your rest", and I try working for a while until I'm either crying or falling asleep on my desk. I do understand that I need help. But every time I think of it, it makes me sick. It makes me sick, thinking that I was to go out and get help. It's like seeing some horrible person get better. That is what I am to myself - a horrible person. At times, I even think to myself: "Why are you so mean to yourself? Just why are you like that?" Then I scream and bully myself even more for asking such stupid things, reminding myself that I deserve it. I overwork myself constantly to drown the thoughts of self-deprication, but they come out even louder when I'm trying to be productive. I don't value people for their productivity. People are not robots or machines, I tell myself, they're not bad persons if they don't work all the time. Yet it doesn't apply to me. Simply doesn't. If my fried chooses to let's say watch a TV show after a long day of work, that is completely reasonable, and I'm happy for her getting proper rest. But if I do it, I'm a lazy loser, a worthless pig that won't achieve anything.

Everyone in my life tells me that I'm successful, that I have achieved more than enough for my age and on the right track, but I simply can't see it. The trophy becomes ash once it's in my hands. I feel so stupid, crying on the metro about things I said to myself. I have a supportive mother, but I simply can not weigh her with any more of my problems, I love her. I have reasons to live, but it is so hard that I question whether I will be able to, and is it worth it if it's so hard to feel happy. I have a friend, perhaps two, hobbies and externally, I imagine that I look like a decent human being. Inside, I am hollow. I feel dead. I want to cease to exist. At times, laying in bed, I fantasize about pulling two guns to both of my temples. The defeanibg sound, the split second when I would feel my skull exploding. The blissful nothingness that is to come. But I can not kill myself, even though I have at minimum two plans of how I would do it. And if the death presents itself , I won't fight it. I wish there would be some method by which I would just erase myself. No body to find, no belonging to auction off, no people to upset. Just some marvelous thing that would make it so I never existed.