Some sort of ending.

With each day I fall apart in tears, I feel closer to the end. The end of what? Who knows. There just lurks this haunting feeling that my life, as I now know it, will be ending soon. It just has been too similar for too long, and the stresses (generally associated with the things they are associated with) have lingered too long with little probability of ending. In other words, the stresses have become inherent in the way I interact with the world. And, again, I have this, admittedly illogical, intuition that everything will change as a result--either in suicide or in a seismic change in my life. I cannot say which, as the feeling is too unconscious in nature to constitute as conscience an end as suicide. Truthfully, it doesn't really matter. After all, if you kill yourself, you will be too dead to regret it.