I want him to stop thinking about me. I want him to forget
me. I want him to fall in love, have that person love him
back, and move on with the rest of his life. I don't want
him to recognize me when he sees me on the street. I don't
want him to ask my sister how I'm doing, or notice when I'm
online. I don't want him to care about me at all. I don't
want him to ever think of me again. The memory of me is
hurting him. I'm sick of causing people pain.

I was sitting in the car, trying to think of reasons not to
do what I've started referring to as "crossing the big
river," and I thought of my sister and realized it would do
so much more damage to her than I can allow. So I started
crying, because it dawned on me that there has to be
something better than this. There has to be something
better than not committing suicide because of what it would
do to my little sister. And I know that I can't just keep
going on like this, not crossing the river because of how
it would hurt her but not being any kind of good sister for
her either - half-dead the way that I am - there has to be
something better than just not wanting to hurt people. I
keep thinking about myself all the time, how miserable I am
and how everything is horrible for me, and at some point -
during that which is my version of a pep-talk - I stop and
step away, so that I can look at myself in disgust, and
,think, "Am I that person? Am I that selfish, self-centered
self-involved, self-pitying, useless person?" So I try to
think of something useful to do. And a new idea just came
to me: yes, of course I spend time pitying myself
endlessly, and yes, of course I sometimes spend money I
don't really have on things I think I want but can live
without, and yes, of course I sometimes let people
sacrifice some degree of pleasure so that I can feel better
for a few minutes (like telling people in what ways things
are wrong in my life when they ask me how I am, even though
I hardly know them, but just because they insist once out of
politeness that I tell them what's wrong), yes, this is all
true. But, have I ever really answered that question that
he asked me, "What do you want?" I haven't tried to figure
out what I want, beyond saying, with a great deal of
uncalled-for self pity, that I want nothing.
What do I want?

Honest to God, I don't know. It has something to do with
things being better.
I think maybe a small house far away from everything and
everyone, with no sentient beings of any kind in a
hundred-mile radius, and no such beings ever coming close
to that area either; food, water, maybe a good bed. The
knowledge that whatever I do has no effect on anyone, that
no matter what I do it can't hurt anybody. God, I'd get
,sick of myself. At least there I could rest in peace
.knowing no one had to suffer my company