Unfinished

I want to shoot myself in the head. I am happy.

Those two thoughts constantly battle in my head. They exist simultaneously, and I feel them strongly. I wish I could kill the part of me that desires the silence and peace.
I am a coward. I was alone in my car going 90 if I could have just turned the steering wheel a few degrees to the right for a few yards I would have hit a concrete column.
There are invisible hands on top of mine guiding me, forcing me, holding me back.
Why?

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