I can't do it anymore. Lately I've been feeling so alone. All I think about during the day is how I want to dissapear, and go to sleep, and not wake up. I always want to die. I always want to numb the pain. I always want to fly away. I always want to be a different person. I always want your life. I always want your parents. I always want what you have because its everything I don't have. All of you, Any of you. I just want a different life, a different body, a different mind.
I'm never satisfied, I'm never happy, I'm never real.
I hate me. I hate who I've become. I'm a piece of shit.
I hate feeling like I don't know who I am, or always questioning who I'm supposed to be.
I have tried so hard to do things right, pretend to be happy so people don't question me, and act like I'm better than what I really feel so my insecurities don't show.
But, I just CAN'T anymore. I'm tired.
Its just really hard to pretend that you're happy with your life when %75 percent of your daily thoughts revolve around how you want to escape from the world, permanently.
**SIGH**
I just wish there was some way for me to describe effortlessly into words what it is like to struggle with depression and always feel alone, and have the urge to cut yourself all over your arms and legs so you can watch the blood drip to remind you that you're still alive; that the pain of your heart hasn't killed you just yet, and make yourself throw up the meal that you just ate because your mother calls you fat, and curse at the top of your lungs into the faces of all the people who have screwed you over.... but I can't ever seem to find the words that fit just right.
I wish there was a way I could apologize to all the people I've let down, and hurt, and betrayed, and screwed over. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. All I want is to get out of this fucking town. Its not fair. Its not fair.
I've messed up more things than I've figured out, and I've disregarded the things that I need to fix.
I used to cut myself. It hurts. Really bad. But I did it anyways.
The other night, on my way home, I stopped my car on the side of the road and took the razor that I've kept in my purse for months, and I held it in my hand as my body was shaking, and I cried. I just sat there clenching on the blade as the tears fell down my fat face.
No, I didn't cut myself. But damn I sure as hell wanted to. I knew that if I did I wouldn't be able to stop, and I've come to far to let those flames burn again. My soul feels so numb. I feel so empty.
I just want to live, and breathe, and I want to stop feeling so anxious.
I'm sorry for being so pessimistic all the time, I'm sorry for not speaking up when I should, I'm sorry for letting people walk all over me, I'm sorry I'm not honest as much as I should be, I'm sorry for saying bad words, and thinking bad thoughts.
Someone, please. Help me.
I'm broken.
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