I can’t do anything right.
All I want to do is die. The other day I went searching for pills or anything that would be useful to me in the future and I am too scared to admit this to anyone. I’m too scared to tell them that all I think about is death, and slitting my wrists when no one is around. Sometimes I try to remember when I got each scar. The deepest one is from the Thursday before I attempted suicide. It was the day I cut my hair, too. I went to school crying, unable to tell my friends why. What was I going to say? “I cut my wrist so bad today that I can feel the blood dripping from my sleeve”? Or “I plan to kill myself in four days”? I couldn’t. So I didn’t.
One day I want to see if I can be as quiet as possible and see if anyone notices. I bet you they wouldn’t. I am so sick of having friends that will only be there until something better comes along. And then having those other friends that are so annoying they make you scared to go to school because you don’t want to have a mental breakdown.