unnamed selfishness

I don't understand how I can try to be a good person and it feels like everything is still crashing down on me.  The suicidal thoughts are there; I want to die, but it is a completely selfish act.  There is no forgiveness for it, even from me. 

I look at the delicate skin on my wrists and think about how easy a knife/razor blade/scissors would slice through to the fat, the tendons, and then the veins and arteries.  To feel the release and seeing the pain rush out through the blue fluid that turns red with oxygen.  And fast-forward to the first person to find my painless body; my son.  I can feel the pain in his heart and then I feel it in mine.  How do you explain to your child, seventeen, almost a man, that he could not stop you?  That he can't follow you everywhere or be with you all of the time?  If you are determined to die, you will find a way.

My determination is not there.  I cut myself to see the bleeding and fantasize about what it would feel like to be completely dead.  NO pain, NO worry, NO hurt feelings, NO feelings at all.  I then think of my children--what would they do?  Would they mourn me or be plainly angry?  I hope they would be angry, because I wasn't thinking about them, I was thinking about myself.  I am selfish.