I don't hate myself, but for some reason I think about suicide daily. Never enough to actually do it, but there are bridges everywhere, plenty of opportunities. There's just a little bit in the back of my mind that says what if? What's on the other side, do I really want to bother with life? Of course, there's always the good stuff that reminds me not to, but there's still that nagging voice just whispering for me to just fucking do it. I swear, I run off of pure spite.