I work with the houseless community, and many of them are my coworkers. As you can imagine, it wasn't hard to find out who the addicts were, not shaming, just it's hard not to spot them and to what degree they are addicted. I had a couple half-assed attempts and one serious attempt to end my life, but that was when I was a teenager, and I was emotionally underdeveloped at that age. Now I'm 36, I'm an adult, I managed to keep it together this long, I should be in control of my emotions, I should be able to just meditate them away or something......but I can't. I'm barely holding on financially by working a job that leaves me in so much pain and with so little energy that I can't do anything I want....like cooking for myself, or going out for a night once in a while. Even without the job I suffer from anxiety, depression and ADHD. My body is so broken due to bad genetics that even without the job, my energy and how long I can sustain my favorite activities is severely limited. I'm never going to be able to actually live my life the way I want no matter what I do, I can't even move out of my own crappy country because I'm disabled (disabled, not useless)... I could literally write a small book about the entire fucked history I've had and while I am so glad that I myself have improved myself as a person and actually proud coming this far in spite of all of it, it means fuck all in the real world. Being a good person doesn't get you anywhere in this life but stomped on and taken advantage of, and unless most people are doing their part, nothing ever gets done that needs to get done.....like I dunno.....mitigating climate change, solving world hunger, etc. I feel like I live amongst zombies who are content to either stick their heads in the sand and say problem? what problem? or who are too afraid to do anything significant enough to better the future for everyone around them. Statistically, my life is half over, and nothing significant has improved in my life other than my character....the chances that I will die feeling fulfilled or happy are extremely low, I don't like those odds and I hate it when people ignore the math and tell me to stick my head in the sand with them. I've also been in and out of therapy and on a smorgasboard of medications since age 11, none of that has ever helped, I felt like I was getting nowhere the entire time I went to therapy and took all those pills.....if anything the pills made me worse, something something the US healthcare system sucks if you aren't rich.

I'm afraid dying will hurt, I think that is a large reason why I didn't attempt to end myself for so long before, I became more educated about suicide attempts through a suicide support site (yes, a site that actually supports it) and I decided I was already suffering enough as it is, I don't want more, I want to go out peacefully and there aren't many ways one can do that. Oding always looked like a peaceful way to go (when it's opiods at least).....so I asked my coworker, the one I knew for certain was a heavy drug user if he ever OD'd and what it felt like. And I'm not sure I should have asked that, now that I know the answer...I spent my commute home thinking about it, thinking about how I would plan everything out. That alone felt way more peaceful than it should have probably. I never planned my previous attempts, they always happened during really heightened emotional moments, there really wasn't much time dwelling on the act itself before.