whoever's listening//a.i.

untitled:

␛ one:thirty-three am

dear whoever's listening,

my alarm clock seems to be getting louder. each beep sends a more mocking message, as if it's laughing at my tear stained face. people at school aren't letting up. they laugh at my scars. every thin line across my arm was because of the cruel things they spat at me when i didn't want to be there. i have no friends. i don't know if i will ever accept that. it's a horrible feeling. it's like the feeling you get in your stomach when you know something bad is going to happen but you don't know what. it's anxiety and worry and nerves. it's a constant questioning and replacing who are you with this idealistic version of you. the society's idea of perfect and suddenly i'm trapped in this cage of self doubt and pity. it's like slowly dying, watching everyone else breathe.

i guess having your mother turn her back on you doesn't really help a teenager struggling with depression. my brother, harry, has been trying to help me. i pushed him away. i don't want him to swallow up the pain like me. my sister, lauren, avoids me at all costs. she thinks i'm sick. i guess i am. my dad walked out on us. it only added to my growing depression. my teachers keep pressuring me to see a doctor. that can't do anything about it. without parental permission they can't take action on my mental health. i wonder if other people know what it feels like to loathe yourself.

i haven't slept in awhile. harry says it's unhealthy. calum tries to help out, but he's always busy with work. i'm grateful that he tries. he was of the only genuine people left. i wish more people could see the good in him. instead they make backhanded comments and their only insult was "asian". i've been trying to make friends but people shut me out. it's getting hard.

thanks for listening.

love,

ashton