-Under The Bridge plays softly in the background-

(TW: Graphic depictions of suicide and suicidal ideation, please do not read if you are currently thinking about suicide. Please exit this site and contact a help line immediately. Stay safe. )
Hi, because I'm a twat I'm going to whine about how sad I am. To lessen the douchebaggery of this entry (is is literally just masturbatory descriptions of how shitty I've been feeling) I'm writing this puppy in comic sans. Fuck proper font. I've wanted an excuse to break out the fancy fonts. Maybe my next entry will be in Tahoma or something. StOP ME, I'M OUTA CONTROL
 Awww shit son I'm breaking out the emojis. Are you proud mom? I'm complaining on the internet! 
I should start the entry now that I've had my fun. 
So anyway...
In August (August eighth if you want to keep tabs on me like some sort of CIA whizz) I tried to off myself. To skim over the fluff and get to the good bits I took over five hundred tabs of aspirin and had to have dialysis to filter the drugs from my system. I was basically told "gurl you gonna croak rip" by the hospital staff before everything went completely balls up the wall (that was when the vomiting started.)  The doctor who was taking care of me only had a ten minute grace period to jam the glorified bendy straw that they use for dialysis in my femoral artery before they HAD to get me upstairs. Everything was on a timer. I don't remember much of that tbh I was veryyy indisposed. The only thing I remember about the dialysis is that when the doctor started jabbing me with the needle he was panicking because he couldn't locate the artery (my veins are shy as fuck.) He was arguing with the nurse over whether of not they should use my neck or if they should keep poking me like a cocktail wiener.  Then the assistant yelled that my vitals were dropping and I leaned over the stretcher, puked on the floor like a frat boy and passed out. 
I woke up to my family in tears (excellent) and a nurse wagging her finger at me, asking if I was happy to be alive. 
All I could say was "I don't know"
I told you guys this mainly so you could better understand how I feel now. Although every time I talk about my suicide attempt (or as well call it in my family "the incident") I feel like an attention whore. Which is why I never mention it. 
At the time of the attempt I was unmedicated and totally fucking nuts. I was in the grips of a mixed episode (for those who are unfamiliar with bipolar disorder, a mixed episode is when the hellish low of depression and the frantic high of mania DP you into submission.) Mixed episodes are particularly dangerous because the bipolar individual is more likely to behave on rash impulse. My attempt was a mix of blind impulse and carefully planned premeditation. 
The original plan that I had laid out for my suicide was that I was going to go to the drugstore close to where I work, buy a couple bottles of pills (a variety so my pallet wouldn't get bored) and a large bottle of water and then take the bus as far away as I could. Into the boondocks part of my town and then park my sorry ass in the woods and die in peace like an elephant. Elephants separate themselves from the heard when they are too sick to continue. I was a sick elephant holding my heard back, therefore I had to be removed. 
I kept this plan in place for about a month (?) and bid my time until I knew no one would come looking for me. However, because I was in such a bad place that night I decided fuck it, I'm doing this shit right now. Of course it didn't work because I live in a house with four other people and when you start slurring your words and puking on the ground with a bloody nose they get a little worried. 
The motivation behind my decision to end my life was pretty cut and dry. And I still feel this way now, bringing it to the point of this entry. I am a burden to my family. I am a burden to everyone. My family is going to be saddled with me for the rest of their lives. I am never going to get better, I will always be mentally ill and need support in some way. My meds and therapy and other sundry expenses cut into my family's shoestring budget. Without me they would have more money and be free from dealing with a fucked up, self harming daughter who can only work minimum wage jobs and never finished college. 
I've caused them all nothing but pain. When I was a child I was constantly in trouble for my mood swings and as a teenager I went into rages and fought with my father. As an adult my mania got me in trouble with the law and they had to bail my worthless ass out of jail only for me to keep fucking up by not being able to find work. 
I don't deserve their kindness or support. I haven't done anything in my life to deserve love. I'm a shitty person who needs to be left in a ditch to die. I wish my family would abandon me and move on. I'm not worth it. There is nothing good or decent about me. I'm not special or talented or even remotely worth the effort.
There are billions of people on this planet, if you look, and not even very hard, you will find thousands if not millions of people like me. They will be better, smarter, funnier, prettier, thinner, everything-ier than me. Why bother getting to know me? I can't do a damn thing right. I fuck up everything I touch. I can't even do my shitty bakery job right. I fuck up on a daily basis and my boss and coworkers treat me like I'm a nutcase because I have anxiety and can't handle too much stress because I panic.  All I can do is try and function like a broke robot. 
My life would be so much better if I lived alone and had no one that cared about me. Then I could be this messed up being and it wouldn't hurt anyone. My friends deserve better. Anyone who expresses romantic interest in me deserves better. I want to date again but why should I? I could never do that to some poor woman, inflict myself on them like that and ask them to be tasked with the idea of dealing with me. Why would anyone want to stay with me? I have nothing to offer them. I can't have sex without acting like a kicked puppy and my body is so scarred up and obese who would look at it and feel desire? 
I've been batting these ideas in my head all day and the longer I ruminate on them the worse it gets. A part of me is screaming that I need to get myself to a damn hospital so they can tie me to a pole and give me a shoe to bite on so I don't start chewing off my hands or something.
I'm not suicidal, not actively anyway. I just feel shitty and don't have the balls to tell anyone who could help me. I could call Dr.L but she would only suggest staying in the hospital, if I were unemployed I might consider going but what if my insurance company isn't so kind and decides to not cover it? I couldn't bear giving my family any more debt. My insurance company covered my psych stay the last time but that was a random act of kindness that I didn't deserve. I can't talk to my family because again I'm a worthless sack of shit and don't deserve to  be comforted by them. I could reach out to my friends but they have their own problems and don't need to need to be saddled with my drama. I met all of my current friends in the psych hospital so they know that I get into low periods but so do they and they all deal with it. So can I. 
I just need to stop being so self-centered. I need to think about others and stop focusing in how crappy I feel. It isn't helping anything. No one wants to be around a fat ugly crybabay.