before 17..

I will not make it to my next birthday. I have thought about it a lot, and because of my depression I will always make people miserable. I want too much in life that I know will never be real. I will always be sullen and alone. so freaking alone. the only people I could talk to, my sister and 2 other friends, just left for the week to a different city for a mission trip. I can’t stop fucking crying. or burning, but I love burning. I am truly alone. I can’t socialize because I don’t know Spanish (I’m in a foreign country), I can’t get help because I wouldn’t know what the hell the doctors are saying, all my friends in America have most likely forgotten about me, and my pills aren’t working right. my head is so messed up and destroyed with thoughts I’ve created that will haunt me forever.