I did what I was supposed to but it doesn’t change the outcome.

I’m 25 years old. Everything up to this point has been one long dramatic soap opera of abuse and trauma. Every single category of bad stuff that could happen has happened to me. None of it, from my conception to the current moment, was ok. My parents failed me. My family failed me. People I thought were my friends failed me. My past partners who told me they loved me failed me.

Despite all of that I’m constantly praised for how strong and resilient I am. Despite growing up poor, abused, and later on disabled from multiple physical and mental injuries that resulted in the development of multiple chronic illnesses, I’ve been entirely self sufficient. I built a career for myself despite dropping out of college. I live alone and never have to ask for help from anyone. I’m not wealthy by any means but I’m never late on bills. I have a lot of debt across a car loan and credit cards, but I picked up a second job and will have it all paid off by next year.

Even with an upwards trajectory economically, it hasn’t changed much. I’m still horrifically alone. I only talk to my cats and long distance video game buddies outside of work. I live in a place that’s cold and dark 75% of the year and more expensive every passing day. Everything reminds me of traumas and often triggers anxiety attacks that are so debilitating that I have to park my car and have a breakdown on the side of the road multiple days out of the week.

I’ve tried medication, I’ve tried therapy, I exercise so much you’d think I’m training for a triathlon. I reach out to people, I try new things. No one cares. I can see the disgust on people’s eyes when they can sniff out the fact that I’m damaged goods. I don’t ask for help, I don’t vent unless someone asks about what’s bothering me, I don’t display any kind of attitude besides an amicable and mild one. But people are genuinely repulsed by me. All I want to do is share my love and attention and gratitude with people in a pursuit of genuine connection but every experience has taught me that my life isn’t worth anything. It’s a fact that I refused to accept until now. That’s the lesson the universe has been trying to teach me.

There’s no winning, there’s no being the ultimate underdog, there’s no victorious comeuppance. Just endless grind and silence to greet me when I come home. I’ve made a plan and I’m going to carry it out once I finish selling everything, paying off my debt and finding a suitable home for my cats. There’s nothing that I’m attached to or a place that I belong that’s affected by my presence or absence.

I’m going to find somewhere quiet and out of the way and put myself in a cadaver bag on a tarp. I’ll put up a sign a respectable distance away telling anyone that might pass by that there’s a body and to call someone to collect it. I’ll have my drivers license on me so they can identify the body if it’s too decomposed. I plan on donating any money left in my accounts to a variety of charities.

I don’t want to trouble anyone but I guess I’m just writing this to prove that I existed at some point.