I feel like at this point, I’m starting to accept that whatever is going on with me probably won’t ever go away.
No matter how much I wish it would or how much I plead for happiness, or beg for something, anything better, It’s not going anywhere.
A couple years back in my freshman year of high school my mother believed I was suicidal, but I don’t think that was the case.
I don’t think I’ve ever really been suicidal, but I do fantasize about death.
If I were to die, would it matter? It’s only another part of life, and the world keeps spinning either way.
This makes me seem like I don’t think people would be affected if I were to die. I know they would be.
I know this, and yet I’m still so careless with my life. I’m too sloppy, too reckless.
I don’t want to die but honestly, I wouldn’t be all too upset myself if my untimely death were to come. What a bummer, right?