Long do I wait

There are times now that I can barely get myself out of bed. I know I'm not worth it. It's more then a feeling of empty, it's a feeling of wonder. Why am I alive anymore? Haven't I served some purpose. Can't you be done with me already?
I ask these to God, as I know God exists. I have to assume my questions are heard. So why won't you answer me? Why am I forced to be so angry at my life yet so afraid to take it?
Does it make me less of a man that I am too afraid to kill myself? Does it make me less of a human? Less of spirit? I have spent hours on the subject. I imagine the feeling of a blade slipping down my wrist. Gliding straight and narrow down a deep red current. I imagine the feeling of swallowing as many pills as I can find. Sinking lower and lower into my stomach, as I lay in my bed and sleep..."and in that sleep perchance to dream." Oh the dreams.
Seldom do I dream of heaven. Point of fact I don't believe I have ever dreamed about my life after this one. I only dream about the death, the seconds before, the fleeting seconds before.
I see the pain, the pain within me and that I have caused. Will cause would be more accurate. Several times I have dreamed of the wake. I sit in the back as a handful of people file in to look on me. Who would come? My family often has a bad habit of meeting and catching up at wakes. It can often become a coffee clutch. I have always said I wanted my wake to be a happy affair, people thinking warm thoughts about me. But I begin to question the reality of that thought.

I hope to sink into the ground and disappear without a trace. I hope when I talk to God that God hears but won't necessarily listen. I hope that when you read this you think, I'm happy because I'm not him.