Rate of Success

I calculate it slowly
day by fucking day
and it always seems like I'm going in circles
things happen
but not to me

is it sick to wish you were ill with something?
incapacitated, laying in a hospital waiting to die?
a part of me wants that
I can't deny that I would enjoy the attention
I hate that about myself

how close did I get to death?
I really wish I could know
the machines beeped a thousand times
I was monitored and weak
my thoughts were scrambled like eggs
I want that to happen again

but I tried to repeat it and it wasn't the same
all I got was charcoal to drink and a worried mother
I regret being alive in the first place

and it wasn't even my choice
I wasn't given a choice to live this life
God supposedly gave me this great gift
I feel like it's a curse that I have to live out
like every day is just slow torture
I've lost my mind before
if only I could lose it again
that's real freedom
you're not tied down by anything

I don't want responsibility
I want to rot like a corpse
what I want is to die of natural causes
very very soon.
That's what I really want.
So it's not my fault and I don't have to be punished for it.
My aunt's dodged the bullet so many times
I want the bullet to hit me
I'm just tired of living
and I think sometimes I convince myself I'm happy
but the fact is I'm miserable
and I whine because it's the only thing I can do.
I want to make a point.