Why am I even alive..?

‘WHY AM I EVEN ALIVE..?’

It’s 23:26 and my depression is at its’ peak.

I have so much hatred towards myself.

I can’t find the energy to write chunks of text.

My head is spinning.

I’m gradually losing weight.

Just cracked open my first beer tonight.

With the sertraline you get drunk quicker, apparently.

I am a disgusting monster.

I don’t know what I want anymore.

Wasted so much of my life.

I don’t have motivation to do anything, so I’m either browsing SP, listening to music or sleeping the day away.

Parents don’t like me. I’ve been foul tempered. They are beginning to give up on me a little. I’m an adult now, after all.

They don’t understand my depression.

I snap at them all the time.

I’m uncontrollable.

So I hide away in bed so I don’t need to upset anyone anymore.

I stink really bad.

One of my permanent teeth are wobbling.

I have a massive ulcer on my tongue.

The bags under my eyes continue to intensify.

My paranoia has return and so have my delusions.

I’m cutting again.

My insides ache.

My lips are sore and peeled.

I’m a huge wreck.

I’m scum.

I’m just an object.

I’m barely living.

I’ve been in this bed for more than 73 hours this week.

I don’t even know what day it is.

My sister isn’t proud of me.

My gran isn’t proud of me.

My mum’s considering throwing me out someday.

I’m obsessive, selfish, rude, lazy, apathetic, heartless, mentally ill, delusional, filthy, hysterical and much much more.

I wrote about my appearance in graphic detail so you can be disgusted at me.

My hairs been falling out…

It’s greasy.

I’m drinking nothing more than coffee and booze.

I am so vulnerable. Too gullible. Even the nicest people have their way with me.

My dad doesn’t care about my problems anymore. He tells me he’s too old now.

I have a feeling eventually my mum will also get sick of it and stop caring.

I think this is what I’m striving for, so why am I complaining anyway?

I don’t know if I’m going to attend college this year.

I’m giving up.