/feels/ - Advice & Venting

I want to die young but I can't commit suicide because of religious reasons and because I'm a coward, did attempt when I was less religious and I was never strong enough to do it. Ever since I found out people in heaven are roughly middle aged versions of themselves I've been more in a rush to do it soon. I'll be 22 in a few weeks, and I can't imagine being any older than this. I've had this mindset since I was 14. Every year I'd tell myself if I die at 14 I'll forever be 14, at 15, I'll forever be 15, at 16, I'll forever be 16, etc… dead people don't age in the memory of others, I hate the idea of growing up, growing out of my body, when I hit puberty and got my first period I wouldn't stop crying about it for weeks, same for when I wore my first bra, when I first noticed hair on my body, all the things changing, everything felt like a change my soul vehemently opposed and despised but that was infuriatingly out of my control. I fundamentally hate my body and hate it more each day. I envy every person I hear died, whether it be relatives or neighbors and even friends, in highschool two girls I distantly knew passed away, and I couldn't stop obsessing about their deaths, even after attending their funerals and seeing the grief that struck their parents, one died of anorexia and the other of cancer, it was sort of a humbling grounding experience to see how death affects others around us, I'm closely acquainted with death, my father has had near life ending experiences twice, and each time I felt horribly guilty about the sense of calm and envy that gripped me in the midst of it. I wished it was me, I wish I was terminally ill to die, I lost an online friend to brain cancer months ago and I still go back and read our messages and each time it doesn't make me feel guilty for “squandering” the gift of life, it makes me feel bad that she, someone who clearly wanted to live, got to die and I continue to live. We bonded over mental health problems, her parents were absent alcoholics and we repeatedly shared our wishes to commit suicide when we were younger, back before she was diagnosed, but as fast as the finality of death hit her, she changed and became more hopeful to live despite it all, almost spiteful. I wished it could have been me and not her, i don't want to live, I can't believe I have to wait 60, 70 more years before I'm finally free, I want it to be over already, there's nothing that could make me want to live or enjoy life, I would choose dying over living my most perfect life any day, if only I had the choice. It used to make me feel guilty and selfish but each year the morality of it all eludes me and I only continue to wish I was dead or dying, doesn't matter how slow or painful, I wish it was me who got into that accident and not my dad, wish I was the one to die of cancer not my friends, wish it was me that had life threatening anorexia and not that girl in my highschool