That’s how I feel at the moment. If anybody could see who I truly was, I’d be finally, truly alone. Maybe that’s what it will take to get the courage to end everything. I’m stuck in this fucking hole, and when being myself leads to pain, what else have I got than to lie, or to give up the act and let everything fall apart?
Nobody will ever understand who I am and what I still think about doing… if it gives any perspective, I’ve had dreams of killing people and watching them choke on their own blood. That was when I was eight, and the images will never leave me.
1 comment
I’ve been reading your other posts. I find it hard to get my head around that fact that someone who is so articulate and descriptive, and writes as beautifully as you could feel so worthless. Your words are like poetry. You are in high school, flunking…and had work experience in a supermarket ? Do you write music…lyrics? Are you fascinated by death metal.? Maybe you need to lighten that up and be fascinated by life metal. (Whatever that is, I made it up. But it would be doom and gloom with a glimmer of hope.) Maybe you should place an ad and start up a metal band.