She gave me this and said oh it will help. It will help you lose all your problems. That's what they all say. Every. Single. Time. So now I just write to keep everyone in peace, I write that I'm happy, that it's getting better, that it hurts less. But it's all lies, empty lies. How could they believe that it will EVER be ok? I'm tired of hiding, I'm tired of the masks, I'm tired of the tears, the pain. Make it stop. Make the spinning stop. I'm tired, anxious and lonely. This whole book will never make sense to you because I'm crazy, I am. That's what they said to my mom when they thought I was gone, but I was there. I heard them. Oh she will never be okay again, they said and my mom started crying. It's all my fault, it's always my fault. Where are my blades? I don't deserve to breath like you do... By now you probably have stopped reading. You must be telling your friends about this crazy girl who believe yelling for help in a empty cave is the solution. That because I tell no one I won't wake up daily and take 5 different pills. My head won't pound, my heart won't hurt, my eyelids won't shut. I'll be happy, excited about life. But right now what is life, what is happiness? Life is blurring with death. This is why I am where I am. I'm crazy and I will burn in hell alone. I'll never be okay but I still lay awake thanks to my insomnia and think. If I confessed earlier could they make the pain away? Make that sour taste disappear? Would my mother be able to sleep at night knowing her daughter would be alive the next day? Maybe I shouldve never been born, yes that's the answer. She told me never to say it but I just did and you heard it.
YOU ARE READING
My Little Angel
RandomI'm an outcast, I've always been. This is just another fake solution, another piece of duct tape to patch the hole that is my life. But one day it will fall down and murder us
