The thought of death always occur to me. Eating, showering, every fucking time. But as always, I stay at the gray area. Always. Always. Both doors open at the same time. Change or death? Both seems so nice. Bipolar? Me? I dunno, man. I don’t get a fucking thing. Sometimes, I’m too high to function. Sometimes, I’m too low to function. AND WELL SOMETIMES I’M JUST A FUCKING COWARD. I am the worst. The most disgusting asshole. I am fucking weak. A coward. I am ugly. My body is too fucking thin. Like fucking 33kg. My jaws are too large. But nevertheless, my lover loved me. I, who is stupid and weak. A crybaby. You’ve gone through a lot. I don’t want you to experience the same thing again. Two doors are always in front of me. Two doors. What to choose? Both seems so nice. I can’t choose. Don’t show me kindness, I’ll drown in my own guilt. Punch me. Torment me. I am a piece of shit. I’m a selfish bastard. I’m I dunno. The worst thing you’ll encounter? I have social anxiety, a little loose in the head. I creeped a lot of people. I’m a shadow. People don’t see me. God. ***, forgive me. I don’t deserve you. You deserve better. I’m sorry.