in stories, things turn out the ways the author wants. and in the real life, they don't always. i'm afraid my murder would be like my bridge, i'd make a stupid mistake and never realize it.
There is no way to avoid the mess. The mess you made of your life, of your body, of your sanity, by giving everything you have to pleasing people you will never know. Do you like this life? This life that you dreamed about?