Ending life

I think about dying. A lot more than usual recently. Maybe a lot more than normal. But then again, I don't even know what the prescribed amount of time one should think about dying. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I killed myself. Would anyone care? I mean yeah, maybe people will take time to grieve but would anyone actually really miss me? Most people mourn, then they move on after a while. They eventually fill that void in their heart. And that's what I'll be. A replaceable, dispensible void. I'm tired. I'm tired of life. I think about killing myself sometimes, about slashing my wrists so that the physical pain can numb the emotional pain. Because sometimes I just want to watch myself bleed. The only reason I'm holding on right now is a rational one. It is that if I leave this earth, people will be hurt. Not emotionally, but financially. My parents will have a heavy burden to bear. Sometimes I think I need help, but I don't want to seek it. I want to be able to fix myself. But it's so hard. Even after I fix myself, I get spoilt again and I need to be repaired yet again. It's an endless cycle and I'm getting so sick of it.