Dear diary,
I sit in my dark room just thinking about my unsweetened life style. Pain is all that pours through my veins. Sadness seeps deeper and deeper into my tired and weakened body. I don't know what I'm fucking doing anymore.
People's unsatisfying voices float throughout my ears and brain,"you're going to be okay",they say. But when is it really going to be okay?
It's 3.42 a.m.,I should be sound asleep. That's what a normal teen would be doing on a school night,but instead I'm being spoon fed with false hope from people who have no clue what suffering actually feels like.
But it's 3.43 now so I've given up...
