Indigo Incarnates

Sometimes I just get tired of being alive. I'm not a natural creature anyway. I'm wholly artificial in almost every conceivable way. In essence, I'm something of a placeholder for the original person who occupied this body. That person is incapacitated and is unlikely to ever be functional. So I am, in essence, a usurper.

I hate how I am too much of a coward to commit suicide. You know you're a coward when you're too cowardly to take the coward's way out. That's pretty cowardly!

It's not like I've accomplished anything noteworthy in my life. I have a job that doesn't really pay the bills. I have a partner that is generally indifferent towards me (other than that I am thhe chief source of funding for his yearly cruise vacation). I'm overweight and mentally ill. I don't actually look like this body. I have few friends. My family generally treats me with indifference. I have no notable skills. I have two books in print that were utter flops. My function in the household is primarily one of doing chores and running errands.

I think it would be better if I had the power to just end this life. I'm being pragmatic. I'm useless, I'm artificial, and things will only go down from here. It's not like I actually have a right to live. We should have been dead in 1982.