I’m still here

I couldn’t do it. I got home from sneaking out, couldn’t get back in, had to call my parents then got yelled at. Heaps of guilt! YAY! They’re at wits end with me, said they wished I’d just get it over with. Well you know what? I wish that too. I don’t know why it hurts so goddamn much, and I have no reason for this pain. My life is perfect, and with these pills I can’t feel anything. I fucking hate it. I can’t cry, I’m empty, broken, alone within myself. I hate me, the girl who looks like an attention whore but only wants help. Truth is, I don’t know what I want. I’ve only given myself scratches, barley bleeds, but oh how good it feels. Does that make me any less in pain, does that mean I don’t want to die? No. I really want to die, but I can’t kill myself. No matter how hard I try I can’t. I’m still here, even if they hate me for it, even if I hate me for it. Now all I can think is, I shouldn’t have come home. I should have jumped.