Each and every day I live in the same routine. Awake and feel the everlasting need. The want, to die. I don't feel alive when I awake. I feel helpless. I drag my body around aimlessly each and every day around the never ending halls at school.
Not everyone has similar dreams as I. Some wouldn't even consider what I have as a dream, one. They'd consider it, a nightmare. My death. My beautiful, horrid death. Not just being hit in a car crash. Or the plane spiraling downwards as I smile and everyone else screams. No. It's I who caused it. I who either, hung myself from the noose. Or, walked in front of that speeding car as I thought of doing countless times on the way to the bus stop. It's I who cut too deep and I wasn't rushed fast enough to the hospital. It's I who overdosed on my medication that clearly states to not do or death is prone.
Yet before my deathful dreams, comes just a night of countless tears. I'm surprised I haven't ran out of any. Tears and fucking up. Tears and wanting to cut. More tears and, wanting to die. Then I realize, no ones there. I have no one. I'm to harsh. Not just my words; but actions. Everything about me is harsh. Yet I. I'm weak. Weak to the damn bone and let me tell you, you can break me emotionally and physically in one touch.
Nothing lasts forever. You have to put it to an end. This depressions end is my death.
"So won't you say goodnight so I could say goodbye."
