I'm sick of dealing with life
I feel like I'm getting somewhere, I'm getting better, and then the next thing I know I'm writing about how fucking lost I am. I want a different mind. I want to give my life to someone who deserves it. I want to feel worthy. I want to feel stable again. It's too hard. It's too hard when your highs are unbelievable and your lows are indescribable. It's too hard to deal with myself. I'm sick of my shit. I want silence. I want peace. I didn't think I'd love this long anyway. I've never told anyone this, but I used to stand in my kitchen for god knows how long every day with a knife, talking myself in and out of suicide. I was 12. My reason? My mind drives me insane. And no one seems to understand. If I'm not alone where the fuck are these people?! I'm done. I'm done looking, I'm done hoping, I'm done acting. I don't feel alive. I feel like I'm existing, not living.
