cellini's Diaryland Diary

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PLEASE KILL ME.

I think I'm done. I think I'm done. I think I'm done.

Why the fuck am I still here? Why do I have to exist, one minute after the other? WHY AM I STILL HERE? I don't want to be here any more. I don't get anything out of existing from one day to the next. I want to stop being here. I don't want to keep existing by myself. I want this to stop. I want to stop existing. WHY DO I HAVE TO KEEP BEING HERE? I want to be switched to the off position. I don't want to be alive anymore. I don't want to be alone anymore. I don't want to exist with my wife gone. I don't want to exist. Just fucking turn me off, please.

Kill me. And really, please fucking kill me. I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE. MY WIFE IS GONE AND I WANT TO DIE. THIS NEVER GETS BETTER. SHOVE A DRILL INTO MY HEART AND LUNGS AND PULL THE TRIGGER. I would rather feel that forever and ever than continue to feel this. KILL ME AS PAINFULLY AS POSSIBLE. I want to die.

2:30 a.m. - 2017-11-01

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