sometimes I find myself telling me this. Another one is “Everything’s my fault” but not really everything… just the things that matter. I’m not anyone important. I just… exist for no reason. I’m gay, my mom died because of me, and I have no reason to live…
so why do I? I’m not really sure why I don’t kill myself. Is there even a reason? I don’t know if I fear death, or I’m just afraid of what would happen if I don’t die… In my dreams, small razors keep showing up. the kind you find in handheld sharpeners. I’m always given a box by someone (It’s different all the time; once it was in a package for the starting of a race, another time it was a present from my mom)
So anyway… that’s me for now. If anyone want’s to talk, just comment, I suppose…
1 comment
You sound confused which I guess is how we all sound when we’re honest with ourselves huh. I don’t think anyone exists for no reason but I think it’s very very hard to find that reason and not everyone finds it. I hope you do.