I want to die. I want to live, but I can’t, because I desire to die even more. I have nothing to live for. The only person who ever saw good in me said that he never meant a word. He never cared about me. I am nothing, and I have nothing. I just can’t take anymore pain. I cry all day, and there’s no relief. I’m tortured in my mind and exhausted in my body. My heart aches with broken promises, everlasting disappointments, and lies told in malice. I can’t tell a soul, because nobody understands a stupid, little depressed girl. Nobody cares. If anybody ever listened, they never heard. They don’t hear anything. They take in words but don’t understand. They tell me it’ll all be ok, but don’t they know how cliche they sound? It’s never ok. Everything always goes down. All good things end, but not all bad things do. The negative envelopes me in an everlasting tide. I’m suffocating. I’ve written the letters. I’ve tied the hangman’s knot. I’ve collected the pills, just in case. I have the razor if the other things don’t work. I’m ready. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. Maybe one last chance to be saved, to find something worth living for, proof that things will be ok. Proof that I have a future. All I feel is trapped, and I need an escape. I’m running from this horrible world, but it is much faster. It’s caught up to me, and I can’t get free. I have one option. I hate that option, but I love the idea of rest. No more expectations. No more heartache. No more exhaustion. Only rest. I need out.