I am the fucking titanic.

I am sinking. I feel myself sinking a little bit more every day, and I die just a smidge more as time goes on. At least the titanic just went down and stayed down. For me, the whole dying part is slow and unnecessarily drawn out. Each problem I face is just another bullet in the leg; it drags me down and puts me through excruciating pain, yet I'm unfortunately still alive.
The titanic didn't have a bunch of other annoying boats encouraging it to live. The people in my life who think they are helping me ARE NOT helping me. "Just keep going" and "I am here for you" and "You'll only have to put up with it a bit longer" are the phrases said by people who you end up hating the most. They have their happy lives and their cheerful smiles and they share buckets of laughter with their million handfuls of friends. They don't know what it's like. They don't know what it's like to feel hopeless, lonely, and empty. They don't see a disappointment in the mirror. They wake up...they head to work...maybe get a manicure. They know the people they love are suffering, but words will only get you so far.
I've stopped treading water and I've stopped scooping up my breaths. I am ready to sink into the depths of the unknown. The titanic was so fucking lucky.