Wow that's horrible

Wow something horrible happened but I can't stop laughing because I find it so damn funny. Like. You know when you should feel bad because shitty stuff is happening to someone and you're forced to feel bad for them because that's your job? Yeah, well I'm so tired of the giving a crap thing that I just moved straight from giving a fuck to laughing. Like. Wow. It feels really good. It's like the universe is dishing out shit on all the people who make me feel like shit constantly, all those people who boo hoo and moan about everything, when I just sit over here and suck it up and attempt not to give away how tired I am, and it feels so right to see it happening. At the same time I can see that they're just going to sulk and have pity parties all over again and I'm not looking forward to that. Like seriously. Grow the fuck up. I'm tired of everyone's skin being so flimsy. Everyone has problems. Mine have already been paraded around on display, and I've already had each and every single one of them used against me and I'm beyond the point where doing anything about them has gotten me anywhere. Caring is not an advantage, I figured that out a while ago. And living is not an advantage either. I'm becoming a waste of resources, and less and less likely to put out anything useful. Soon I will most likely off myself. Living for other people is exhausting. The only reasons people ever give me when I want to kill myself is for other people. Other people will miss me. I have reasons to keep on living because I can still have a life, blah blah blah. You do all realize that those are just reasons to keep on living for other people? I'm bored of life. I'm sick of it. I'm tired of it. I don't want any more of it, the almost eighteen years I've had of it haven't convinced me there's anything special about it. It's just an endless treadmill where everyone's stuck doing the same fucking things, and the only difference is it makes some people happy and some people miserable. And living a miserable life isn't worth bothering with. And people say it'll get better. Sure, it'll get better for a short amount of time maybe a day or two here and there, but what they don't realize is my life isn't punctuated by misery and sadness, it's sadness coated in misery coated in self loathing, coated in boredom, with a slice of tragedy on the side. There have been happy moments, but they're far and few enough between that they don't make up for the bad bits.
I can think back these past few years to some of the happy memories I've got. And then I can think of all the times I've wanted to kill myself over the past three years and say everything else didn't make up for how I've felt. Sure, people care about me. But to what ends? They care about me because I do things for them. And they can't truthfully say they don't, because all I ever do is do things for them. So they've got no other me to base their perceptions on, except for the few times I throw a little temper tantrum and get so fed up of all their crap. But they wouldn't stick around if I wasn't the person I was, the person who puts aside her own personal life to make sure everyone else gets what they want. And I hate that. If I was a different person, no one would say they need me. Because no one would. I'd be another useless person floating in the world. The only reason people care about me is because I make myself needed. I make myself a tool to be used. And if I don't want to be a tool? Well no one gives a rats ass about what I want, unless it corresponds with their interests. And you're lying if you say differently. So.