It's 9.30pm. I'm sitting on a balcony in downtown Seattle having taken an ill-advised work trip during which I accomplished nothing of value, waiting to go back to my home city and dive back into a job that terrifies the shit out of me, but keeps my mind occupied so I don't have to deal with my personal demons and represents everything I ever hoped for. Staring into a glass of whisky and hoping it'll obliterate conscious thought so I don't feel forced to reflect on what I feel is a failure of a life.

Why failure? Because I noped out of math class when I was 17, noped out of university, dropped everyone I knew when I was growing up because I couldn't relate to them, failed in my first career, wasted a crap load of my parents' money on college for said first career, can't keep friends because being around people exhausts me and doesn't benefit my inherent selfish nature, and have ended up without strong bonds to anyone including my family. I drink too much, I vape like a chimney, I spend money recklessly, and I lie to my parents about all this because admitting the truth about my existence would negate my existence and confirm what I already know: that I'm a waste of oxygen and a burden on the planet.

I'm not sure whether the SNRIs I take every day contribute to the way I feel, but of late I feel that suicide is the appropriate way forward. I do not want to live like this: engaged in work that I barely understand but keeps me solvent and focused, taking drugs to stay level, separated from my family and culture so that I can achieve something without their overbearing presence weighing on my psyche. These are stressors that I have not experienced before and for which I've been seeking help in the form of both individual and group therapy, the former since I was 7 (intermittently) as well as 60mg of Duloxetine daily. Nothing seems to help, though.

I am tired of trying at this point. A graceful exit from life seems preferable to a lifetime of dealing with ongoing mental pain. This is the first time I've ever seriously considered this option; while it's terrifying, it is also oddly comforting and welcoming. Better oblivion than living with myself.