Poems. My storys into words.

A conversation with my family:

"Why are you even crying?"
You were yelling and slamming doors. You know I can't handle that.
"You're weak. you'll never survive in the real world"
Maybe I'm weak, but I've been trying to be strong for years.
"What do you mean strong for years? You don't even know the meaning of strong"
Really. In my own brain I've been wanting to cut little lines into my skin, blow my own brains out, down a bunch of pills, these acts of self destruction, that I know all to well. But I haven't done it. Knowing if I did i would hurt people around me.
"You're just looking for attention, if you really wanted to kill yourself you wouldn't tell anybody you would just do it. "
I haven't done it cause it's selfish. No matter how much I wish I could. I wish I had the courage to Take myself out of this. I want to do it so bad. You Have no idea. But I have people I need to stay for. But if I were clearly looking for attention. Wouldn't I have told you this sooner. Suicidal thoughts are not things to mess with especially when I've been feeling this for years. I've been hiding this for years. I know I need help. I shouldn't want this. I shouldn't want to do this. But you will never understand what it's like to want to self destruct unless you have ever felt like this.