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I keep thinking about how to start this damn cartoon of mine. I want it to feel real, real for me. Like as if it's my story of my life. But the successful part of it. The part that will never exist. Nothing I say from this point has to do with my cartoon, FYI.

I keep thinking about how I'm going to kill myself.
I keep thinking about dressing up with my nicest clothes and just laying down with the intention of never getting up again.
I'm living a tragic story of my own concoction, a formula, a percentage, a statistic.
I'm slowly just giving up on everything one day at a time.
People are saying goals, work, a significant other, a hobby, a something else, will make this emptiness go away. I've been living with it for some time now and to be honest, these people need to shut the fuck up. They don't know what they are talking about. I'm sick of hearing advice on how to tackle depression and anxiety.
Most of these things aren't fixed by my irrational fear of not being good enough, they aren't fixed by getting laid or working 8 and a half hours a day. They aren't fixed by just talking about them. It's a hovering sinking feeling that the only thing left for me now is to just die. I keep thinking about when I broke up with Genesis. How I felt like as if I wanted her to take the biggest risk with me and she didn't want to. Which I understand, it's fucking scary, but if we couldn't do that together then it was over. But it's a shitty feeling because I think she was the first woman I really did give a shit about. 
Maybe if I tried harder. It's not about other peoples failures or anything. It's about what I did or what I could have done. Maybe if I just tried harder in school. What if I tried harder at Bookmans. What if I just did more than I could do?
In reality. I think it's that I did try. I tried too hard and this is why I lost those things that were important to me. I set my standards too high and wouldn't compromise. It fucked things up. Because I tried so hard at this chill job I lost it. I was too serious about it and no one else gave a shit. I tried really hard at school because it wasn't the place for me. I'm no fucking artist. I just thought I was because of all the people around me telling me they liked my doodles and stuff. I tried so hard at school to be one of the ones. The success stories. And because of these expectations I'm unable to act. I can't compete with a lot of these people who are real artists. The people that do deserve to be something.
I realized why I am single. It's because I'm a human pile of waste. I am ugly. I'm disgusting, hella fucking jaded. How anyone dated me before let alone let me kiss them is a mystery to me. I've been thinking about it lately. It's like they saw something in me that I don't see myself. They see my potential. I want to see what they saw, I mean they don't see it anymore, I'm sure because of things that happened.
What is this success or goodness that these people, my ex lovers, my teachers, and my old friends, what did they see me as?
Am I the greatest liar ever? Am I lying to myself?
I keep this idea in the back of my mind, "If I were to move away, start over somewhere new, would it be different?"
I keep thinking about creating a new me. A person of my own design and being that person from here on out. As if I'm already dead. To be something else would be nice right now. I wish I could just transport myself into a different plane of existence for a bit, so I can come back realizing how truly awesome it is to be alive.