In it, I was trying to sleep on my couch, miserable and hating myself, when I heard someone moving around my apartment. At first, I was worried about an intruder, but that was quickly replaced by gladness. The only person it could be is my one friend who lives within an hour of me. They must have gotten concerned I haven't been on discord or steam in a while and come over to check on me! The door to the apartment building is supposed to lock when it closes but it sticks open half the time and I don't bother locking my apartment door half the time as well so that's definitely it. Suddenly, there's a gunshot, and I feel the impact in my abdomen. I'm too shocked to do or say anything and after a second or two, the rest of the magazine follows into my chest. For a instant, I panic. A flash of betrayal, a million thoughts about how I can stop the bleeding, how much it's going to hurt, am I going to survive. Then, I realize that I'm a dumbass. I shouldn't (and with this realization, don't) feel betrayed, I want this. I've wanted this for so long. I can finally let go. I don't need the panic, I don't need to think about how to survive, I can just be calm and let go. She's better than being the only friend to check in on me, she's the only friend who was willing to put me out of my misery. I hugged my stuffed animals tighter, relaxed, woke up, and freaked out a bit.
Not over the passive suicidal ideation thing, that's just reality for me and while living through it in a dream really makes you confront it, it's just... normal at this point. It was just an awful lot of emotions all at once when I'm number than I've been in a while, which is saying something. I got up, checked whether my door was locked (it was), had a cup of tea, and went back to sleep on the couch again.
I wish there was a moral or pleasant conclusion to this, I wish I could be like "and I that moment I realized I really wanted to live!" but there isn't. I'm just to be bringing more negativity and worry into the lives of those reading this. Sorry. This doesn't even really belong here but I can't think of a place it does and I feel compelled to tell the story.
That used to be me. I very nearly fell down the blackpill incel hole, long before those were terms, back when friendzone memes were all the rage. Two things really stopped that--one was that I was self aware and recognized it was a me problem, not a world problem, and the second was more or less a friend turning me into a brony (it was new at the time and was positivity that I really needed). In the end, learning to think critically and not feast on a diet of easy hate is the reason I'm not a complete dumpster fire excuse for a human being. Hate and anger are junk food for the mind, and while there's nothing wrong with hating something or being angry, it's easy to let them rule you and turn you into an angry, hateful person.