Confessions of the Suicidal

1

You don't care about me. You really don't give a fuck. The sad thing is, you'd care if I was dead. And it's not because you care about me. As I said, you don't give a fuck. You'd care if I died because my death would hit you like an unexpected avalanche. You'd feel the guilt. You'd know that you were one of the reasons. Maybe you weren't the biggest one but you were one of them. You'd care that I died because it would create a dent in your ego. Your heart is out of the equation. Would you like I know why? Because while I am alive I give you my heart, it's contents overflowing with love for you. But your heart? Your heart is no where to be seen. You won't suffer emotionally. You'll suffer mentally. Because you know you did the worst things you could possibly have done to me. You wouldn't think 'I shouldn't have done that'. You'll think 'why'd she have to like me?'. Because you don't give a fuck about me. You only care about yourself. That's why you'd care if I died. Because you care about you and you are everything to me.