I fucking hate my life, myself, the people in my life (besides one), the people not in my life anymore.

I feel so bad; this depression is killing me.

It already fucking killed me from the inside.

I feel rotten from the inside,

like i have this parasite in me that just kills my sense of time,

my ability to feel anything.

I just wanna feel. Feel happy, cared for.

I don’t wanna hurt, or be hurt.

I don’t wanna be wronged, left.

I don’t wanna be rotten,

scared of people seeing through the lies and driven away from me.

I hope i just dont wake up tomorrow,

no one text me,

so how will they know if i am alive or not?

They dont care if there is blood running through my veins,

oxygen through my blood,

if my heart is pounding.

No one fucking care in the end.

And the end? I’ve fucking reached it.

Im so done. I feel depressed,

so i reach out to people in the hope for just.. love, comfort, non-judgement.

And what do i get? ‘Space to heal’.

That you can’t heal the soul you didn’t break, doesn’t mean you can just fucking leave?

I literally told you i wasn’t your responsibility, and you take it as a yes for just ghosting me?

I never asked you to fix me,

i just long to be held. You abandoning me,

in the time i need you the most,

cuts deeper than the blade i use to just fucking feel something.

If, in the darkest time in the night,

my body just aches to hurt, bleed, harm.

Am i just supposed to give in?

Does it make you feel better that i have a possibility of bleeding out,

just because u can’t handle, change me?

That i feel unable to open up to you?

That i spend my time writing this?

Because only my fucking notes app listenings?that you are the reason i shed a tear?

Are unable to sleep?

Get bad grades from stress?

Look, i don’t blame you for my pain,

i blame you for ignoring it.

Do you feel better, now you left?

Because i ‘only text you to vent’?

Maybe i do,

BECAUSE YOU NEVER.FUCKING.TEXT.ME.

Do you want me to fucking beg you for a text? Is it that hard,

to just stick around when i need you?

I don’t want your pity, help, advice.

I know i shouldn’t cut myself,

i am aware that food is a live essential.

Do you think I’m that fucking stupid?

Do you see me as retarded?

You fucking do, don’t you?

Well i can’t ask you,

BECAUSE YOU WON’T FUCKING RESPONSE. Didn’t you say you care? Love me? Is this love? Leaving in hard times? Were it all just lies?

I really believed you.

When i told you i love you,

I did with every inch of me.

Why does everyone in the end leave?

Am i that fucking unlovable?

Or did they just got scared away,

by my rotten inside?

Oh well, can’t blame them.

And now you wonder why i don’t talk to you?

If i end up dead,

you’re one of my fucking 13 reasons,

and i hope it haunts you for eternity.

I hope your fucking soul is still lost,

wandering in the dark depths or the universe if you lay in your grave as your corpse rots away in the ground.

Actually, no, i don’t. I still love you.

I still care about you, how your day was,

how you slept, what’s going on in your head, your silence battles.

Even when i am drowning and youre just complaining about too much CO2 in your unlimited oxygen,

i’d still give you some of my air.

See..! It’s.not.that.fucking.hard.

What do you need to just understand it?

Do i need to buy you glasses?

Or will my suicide note be the thing you finally read, and don’t ghost?

Fuck, i am such a fool, ain’t i?

Stories in the same category