My brain is the gasoline to a fire that I created, getting bigger and bigger as time goes on. My mom would tell me to get over my anxiety and face my fears. Mom you're a therapist... you know what I'm going through. You have no empathy. You hate me.
She doesn't hate you. She's your mother.
If she didn't hate you wouldn't she have already had you on anti depressants.
I want to die.
The fire is getting bigger and bigger and eventually the bullet coming from your own mouth will put this to an end.
But it won't end. Your life is going to be a living hell and your going to pass these same god forbidden traits to your two kids.
You're a coward. You don't want kids because you know you're not fit to be a mother. You cut yourself because you want to control something in your life.
You don't like attention even though you do everything to get that shit.
You smoke weed and do dabs because you want to be accepted. You want to fit in.
You don't have time for this. Plan it already. Kill your self. Do it.
Tell them to go home. The party is over.
Put yourself on a wooden cross, douse yourself in gasoline and burn yourself to death.
You won't... but I fucking wish you would.
Brain stop it, you take my friends, crushes, and even my own fucking sister away from me. Stop. Leave.
No one wants you where. Just leave.
I want engulf myself in the flames that are my exotic thoughts. I want to breath the soot and smoke that are these actions.
Stop me.
Let me do it
Stop me. Please.
Let me die.
Help
