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rebecca maybe not death, but something close do you have moments, where you can’t imagine a future? you’re lying there, staring at the same walls same ceilings same words with nothing but the same feelings- empty and pale, like there’s no reason to go on, when you can’t even do enough to fail. the future is coming, but you don’t want to be in it, can’t imagine yourself in it. where you just want to stop. everything. and just sit there for a while. maybe not death, as that’s too permanent, but something close to it. when you can feel the rope around your neck, the razor on your wrist, the way the pills taste. you can imagine it, and you aren’t sure if it’s what you want, or just the feelings you imagine it will give you