The Life of A F*ck up

suicidal

I had a dream i killed myself and that really f*cked me up. i felt every little emotion and even though it was a dream i swear it was partially real. it felt like i was finally relieving myself from all this pain. it felt peaceful almost melodic, but i know a stable mind would think it’s malicious. over the years my feelings have faded away into numbness, almost like they committed suicide years ago.
but in this dream i finally felt something, i was crying. i did it just the way i’ve always romanticized doing it. i said my caring goodbyes to those i loved and ended it all. in my last few moments i felt true emotions. i’ve came so far from these thoughts due to my numbness, but they’re coming back and worse.
they say dreams are a message from your spirit guides, so maybe mine were telling me to finally run.
i don’t think suicide is weak, i think it’s brave. it takes courage to hurt so intensely you have the courage to take your own life. to want out of something so bad even tho you have no idea what happens next. to risk going to hell, reincarnating as something worse, or failing into a black abyss. it takes a special kind of hurt to take anything over this life. to risk it all just for a chance to finally have peace. i don’t think it’s selfish to do something that makes you happy even tho it hurts others.
i’m slowly falling back in, and i don’t know how much further i can fall. . .