Yes, I wrote this. No, I'm not actually dying

I'm writing this down with my last breath
Release is so close but it hasn't come yet
I feel the light reaching me slowly, slowly
Never really knew what I was capable of
But now it's too late, I've already had enough
I guess we'll never know

In my suicide, will you remember me?
Not by what I did, but by what I haven't done
Not by what I used to win, but by what I haven't won
Will you reminisce?

I genuinely am paranoid that everyone secretly hates me and thinks I am really, really annoying and awful and pretending to be my friend and it's all part of some big joke.