By that, I don’t mean I’m suicidal.
I mean I don’t see the point in any more life for me but I don’t want to hurt myself.
I’m no more depressed than I have been previously. Had counselling and medication. Don’t feel I need more.
I’ve done all the things humans are meant to do. I’ve had highs and lows, felt all the emotions. Had children.
I don’t see the rest of my life as a book to be written. I’m not excited. There’s nothing I want to do that is achievable for me. I don’t feel I have anything to live for that isn’t me sticking around for someone else. I don’t actually want to participate in life. I don’t want to go outside or see people.
It’s not a conclusion I’ve reached under dramatic circumstances. It’s more a realisation that I’m coming to the end of a book and I don’t care what happens to the characters after it finishes.
Does anyone relate?