And that's just a small segment of what it's like to be me.
And I'm tired of all of that.
Dealing with it all.
I can't win. I try to be a good and happy person but I just don't know what I'm doing wrong. I just want to get away from it all. And if getting away means suicide then I'd rather die then deal with this.
I remember when I was younger and first became aware of all of this stuff. Depression,
anxiety,
anorexia,
self harm.
I used to wonder how people came to that point. I thought I'd never be any if those things.
But here i am, 3am in the sheltered part of the park; stood here on top of a bench with a noose around my neck.
And maybe it would of fucking got better. Maybe it would all be okay. But I'm tired of living this life. It's just too much.
Maybe if I'd of had friends it would have been okay. Friends to support me.
Love me.
But it's too late for that now.
Hello the sweet release if death... hello.
YOU ARE READING
Hello
RandomI understand you'll all probably slag me off because i have wrote something that you may deem as"depressing". Well fuck you. This story is dedicated to a person I was once friends with (over the internet). Her name was Samara and at the age of 14...
