ever since i was young i always planned to end my life at the age of 18. it’s been months since i turned 18 and i’m still alive. i don’t know why. there really isn’t much to live for. things have been lonely for a long time, but maybe it’s better that way. humans as long as they live will always have an emptiness inside them that will never be filled. it’s really strange. one person’s happiness is built on the misfortune of others. i hate people. i hate myself. what right do i have to feel happy? i’m just a piece of shit. i really don’t want this shitty life. everyday i think about ways of harming myself. there’s been several times where i considered just grabbing a knife and stabbing my eye. sometimes i’ll just look at all the medicine and drugs in the drawers and i’ll just want to take it all. i get hallucinations everyday. i honestly don’t even know what’s real anymore. the more i dream the more real it feels and i just can’t tell the difference between a dream and reality anymore. i’m thoroughly exhausted. i just don’t feel scared anymore. i’m going to take my life very soon. i’m at a stage where nothing will change my mind. i want to be free. i want to be forgotten. i just can’t do this anymore.