I got to wake up just to know I was sleep.

Why haven’t I ended it yet. Not a second or moment or day goes by without remembering my heavy handed depression and how separate i am from all that exists. Why wouldn’t i die as soon as I could. It’s impossible to be this insanely isolated with out being in prison or a desert island. Every moment a reminder of a youth i wasn’t good enough for. A present I’m not good enough for. I hate knowing no body cares and that I’m not alive. I’ve been dead since birth. Anyone I meet similar gets over it and can escape the darkness. But the darkness is all I am. Im consumed by it. I’m tired this permanent emotional night. Nobody understands there is no one else to understand. Death is my only hope for anything resembling freedom.