I fear that my life has gotten to the most pathetic point where I actually have no further meaning or gift to give to the world. My presence would not be missed.
My morbid waste of a body would disappear and the earth would inhale as it breathed for the first time since my waste was burnt to a crisp.
The horrid existence which is my life would be no more and people would not have to fear walking down the street and catching a glimpse of the disgusting object which I used to be. They would never shed a tear over it again.
Maybe the world would even be a better place without me. I don't know.
I just want to curl into a ball, die, and become something far more worthwhile in another life. -That's the way it works, isn't it? You get a shit turn, and the next time round is better...?