Suicide plagues my mind every day and I feel like i’m going insane.
I write you letters in my head to help my weary self. I miss you and I’ve become as cynical as ever because of the thought of you. How should I end our tragic love affair?
Edgar Allan Poe had such a way with words.
Morbid, insane, and heartbroken.
Three consecutive days I’ve spent my time crying. I’m so tired of everything, of everyone. I can’t bottle anything anymore, I’m about ready to explode. I want to dig a hole in the ground and bury myself in it. I want the aching to go away. I want to feel numb and forget all my troubles. I need comfort. I need a friend. I need a reason to keep living because right now I don’t have one. Life has become so overwhelming. I’m losing my mind. Sometimes I close my eyes and as I’m slowly being consumed by sleep I hope that’s my last day. […]
I need to vent. I need to let it all out before it continues nibbling on my insides and destroys me. Last time I spilled my insides to anyone was so long ago. I’ll guess I’ll start from the very, very start. It all started at a very young age. I had a babysitter because my parents were always too busy for me. She was this loud, eccentric middle-aged woman. She was pretty nice. But, as the time progressed I learned that in her house I had no freedom. I wasn’t able to express myself without feeling judged or without being yelled at. She made […]