You know when I sleep all I can think about is how scared I am... I'm scared because of depression it means that you can't be happy... My arm is a violin and my knife is the bow. I kill myself and it would be over so what? Who would give a damn.No one.And that is why I sit in my corner and wait for death to place it's palm upon my head and tell me " It's okay you don't need to cry anymore... It's all over"... I really wished I could just be happy but it's not that simple. Depression is like counting numbers. Some stooped but I just keep going...
