Darkness is beauty, when it helps us escape from the harshness of light.

You do not give me a chance to explain the way I feel.

You do not hesitate to criticize. You are quick to tell me that what I feel is wrong and it is unacceptable.

But you are the one who is wrong.
How could you tell me that I shouldn’t feel the way that I do? How dare you? Do you think that I enjoy it? Crying myself to sleep every night, cuddled myself with the darkness overwhelming my brain? Do you think that I choose to feel this way?

I don’t.

I don’t want to feel this way any longer. I would love help, but you seem not to care enough to try.

So, I want to end it.
But the thought of my family resists the attempt that would make me so happy– at last, so happy.  I feel worthless. ashamed of myself, of my very being. I have no worth to this world. I am better dead. I should have never been born.
If I was never born, my family would not have to suffer of me leaving; for I would never have been there.

I already feel like I am not there.
Why can I not be there?

—

If I had only one second to decide of continuing my life from now on, or redoing my life over again, I would redo my life again without hesitation.
—

I am crying for help.
Crying.
please. help me.

These shrieks of loneliness should no longer be ignored.