Depression is a bitch

I want to die.
It’s like I’m in this funk that I just can’t seem to shake and every day I endure this numbness is a day closer to me committing the deed.
I want to die.
I’ve got so many plans and ideas for my future but I can’t see myself actually accomplishing any of them.
I want to die.
When I think of my future I only see a black hole. I’m honestly surprised I made it this far in life and logically I know it’s just the depression speaking, but, I don’t want to exist anymore.
I want to die.
I feel overwhelmed by the most mundane of tasks and I can’t seem to gather my wits. Please kill me.
I want to die.
I’m stuck in this never-ending cycle of feeling like myself and then questioning what myself truly feels like.
I’m alone.
I want to die.
But I could never do that to the people I know care about me. But, why don’t I truly care about them?
I want to die.
I’m here, but I don’t feel. 24, and I’ve never been in love. 24, and I’ve never experienced true human connection. What’s wrong with me?
I want to die.
I’m not sure how to exist in this time. I feel tethered, tied down, to these societal standards and I will never live up to the part I’m supposed to play.
I want to die.
What am I supposed to do when so many are depending on me but I can’t even function in my every day life? How am I supposed to be okay when there’s so much wrong with this world?
I just want to die.
But I can’t. I’m stuck here and no matter how many times I contemplate suicide, how many times I think of taking the easy way out, I won’t.
I want to die.
But instead I’ll be here, miserable for the rest of my life. Because I can’t do that.
I just want to die.
Here I am, alive but not living.
How do I change that?
I want to die.
Maybe things will get better.
But maybe they won’t.
I want to die.
I just want to not want to die.