I Battle Self-hatred, Anxiety, And Depression

some days i think the world is a carefully designed prison with the soul purpose of breaking you making until you accept it or die. like some master psychologists got together pored through every memory or thought you ever had to make this some slow hell, not fire and brimstone but rot and decay like your soul is being ripped out of you piece by piece. At first you try to fight it to do anything to make the pain and emptiness go away but every day that you fight every day that you breathe saps away at your will until you cant resist anymore. then for some they end it but for others we dont have the strength to even do that so we sit and we rot we pray to whatever god that will listen for lightning, a stray bullet, a drunk driver, and if we have them the people around us who are trying to keep us alive who take us to therapy who tell us how much they will miss us if we go become the enemy. people say suicide is selfish but isnt it more selfish to guilt us into staying alive.