Bleak

I contemplated today the fastest and less chaotic way to take one's own life. I thought the floor of the bathroom with running water would be ideal. Cutting wrists perhaps, but I would hate a slow one. I must research the topic and get well informed. I will surely clear the place thoroughly and tidy up all of my belongings and make it as effortless as easy to clean up after I'm gone. I would leave the door unlocked, and would make it easy to be spotted so that there won't be any foul smells after an unnecessary passing of time. 

I contemplated today at the fucked up genes that run in the family, and all those I've encountered closely, and the narcissism that's so fucking evasive, and all that trauma that has infested the systems in those around me. I stared in my mind at their empty, glass eyes and the way they look right through me, and my pain, and my pleas...

I'm never going to be a burden, but I also feel that there is no point in this whole existence anymore. 

I'm tired from the survival mode, my system is cracking, my mind is fried, my heart is broken, and I ache all over. 

My whole life wasn't just a lie, it was a fucking lame joke! 

It's getting worse by the day, and what's the fucking point!? 

There is none.

Adiós, suckers!

If only!

But then again, 

perhaps maybe...