I imagined murdering myself as a baby last night.
I have absolutely no self-esteem. I am a very lucid person with a good sense of reality. I can tell when my depression is causing me to wallow and when I am feeling normal and rational. In both circumstances I can find no positive qualities to myself. At no point in my childhood, teenage years, or brief adulthood have I felt sure of myself or confident in my abilities. I have been depressed since I was at least 12 and my lifestyle has not changed since. I am stunted for life and have no future.
Last night I imagined what it would be like if I could murder myself as an infant child. I immediately broke down into tears. Something inside me hates me that much that it would hold me back, tell me I am worthless, ensure I would fail, and conjure images only the most depraved lunatic should imagine, directed at myself. I was a baby once. I was an innocent, happy baby. And the thing inside me hates my happiness so much it would do that.
Last night I realized that I am my depression. I have lived as this hateful, spiteful, angry, childish creature for over a decade, because I was never in control. I cry thinking of my inner child. I have tormented it for no reason. Words cannot describe the things I have done to myself, with my inaction, with my time wasting, with my self pity.
Last night I realized that I am beyond help. No amount of therapy or positive thinking can save me. Platitudes enrage me at this point. It is far too comfortable being depressed than changing my entire existence. I am too mentally ill to survive but too lucid to be put in a home. I have 60 more years of torment and self hatred ahead of me.