I want to die.

I have to go shopping after work and that will increase my anxiety and desire to die.

I want to cut. I have to go shopping and that will increase my anxiety and make the urge worse.

Maybe I'll just cave. There are other places besides my legs and arms to cut. No one would have to know.

No one cares anyway.

It should have been me that died. It should have. I'll never get over that it should have been me.