It’s been four years since I planned on taking my life. Sometimes I wonder if it’s really worth staying.

In December 2020 I was going to kill myself. Long story short, I ultimately decided to hang on longer. Got into therapy and on antidepressants, which helped a lot. I no longer feel like there’s a cloud hanging over me, smothering any happiness. I’m no longer constantly fantasizing about killing myself.

But the thought’s always there. Always somewhere. Most of the time it’s easy to push away - I have things I want to live for, even if they’re as simple as “new chapter of a visual novel coming out next week, can’t miss that”.

Every December since 2020 I’ve thought about the fact that I’m still alive despite it all, but this year it feels harder.

Is this really a life? Jumping from interest to interest, chasing happiness that ultimately fades? Can I live like this forever? Well, not forever, everyone dies someday, but for 80-something years. I don’t think a life’s worth of happiness can be wrought from fandom and the same 10 songs on repeat. And right now, that’s kind of all I have.

I don’t have many friends in real life anymore. I don’t think any of my online friends particularly care - we’re friends, yeah, but in the end I’m just some guy.

Is it worth it?

I don’t know, man. I don’t know.