It’s so messed up. I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I guess the reason I want to die is because metaphorically I’m dying inside already, and I want life to end before I’m dead in there.
I’m an angry teenager too young to be classified as a teenager. The pain hurts. I want to cut myself like I did before when I had no reason to, and now I have reasons to and somehow I can’t bring myself to do it.
My relatives hate me because I’m silent, “unfilipino”, different. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen them ignore me. Ironically, I’ve been somewhat abandoned without ever being abandoned; they’re just dragging me along.
I’ve always wondered what everyone would do after I died. It’s a calming thought to me when it shouldn’t be. Maybe they’ll be sorry they no one ever treated me right, but I’m over-exaggerating that prediction.
I’m wasting my life. When I fall asleep I always wish that I would never wake up and stay in this dream where everything is right for once. I feel a strain on my chest when I hop out of bed at 2:00 pm.
I have this fantasy that one day I’ll move to France and start a new life away from this place. But I know that could never happen.
So I’ll probably kill myself soon when everything gets pretty bad. What’s my plan? I don’t know. I just want to go “away”.