I don’t care anymore. How can I, when the only thing on my mind is death?
I’m sick of it. Every fucking moment is spent wondering when and how I’ll die. Oftentimes they turn to suicidal thoughts, planning when to sort everything out prior to the act.
I just want this all to end. Yeah, it’s selfish. I know that already so don’t bother reminding me, it’ll get you nowhere. But you can’t say I didn’t try. Hell, I’ve been wanting to die the past nine years, contemplating suicide the past five. I held on for so fucking long, only to be told “you’ll get through this”, and “you’ve so much to look forward to”. The only thing I’ve ever looked forward to is death.
But to tell someone I’ve wanted to die since I was 6? There’s barely any point, is there? Who’d believe me anyway, who the fuck wants to die at 6 years old?! I’m not trying to single myself out. Hell, that’s the last thing I want to do. I want to fit in.
But I don’t. Life’s like a puzzle, you see. We’re the centre piece of it. But I don’t fit in to my puzzle. I don’t know why. Something went wrong. I went wrong.
“You’re going to get better”, they tell me. I wish. I’ve learnt that these things aren’t going to leave.
But I can.