I've fallen so low that I'm now writing out my feelings on a public platform for everyone to see and hear. Fallen so low I'm past rock bottom, feeling my limbs and mind give out; hearing the jingles if death, thoughts of my own mortality intensify making my anxiety rise up.
Up and up making me want to be sick, making my mind dizzy and breathing quick do quick it hurts to breath. No tears left to cry as dehydration I've bought upon my self, not eating as a firm of punishment and just the pure sickness the sight of it brings.
I would lie if i said no suicidal thoughts came to mind. They have returned, stronger, bigger and more scary. For a child to bare such thoughts and scars, for a child to feel this way, for a cukd to have gone through such things its outstanding. How can a brain, a body that isn't fully formed yet be put through the pain that declining mental health bring?
Haven't finished secondary school yet, haven't lived life yet still wanting to end it. Feeling as if the mess I've made is permanent, too big to erace.
Tell me how man came to space, how know how old our earth is, how we know stars do far away and all the tundra placed on our furthest away planets are, how do we know that yet we don't have a pill that'll erase depression once and for all?
Tell me how we've managed to destroy our planet quicker than we've managed to cure our people of sadness and death that they've caused upon themselves.
I feel like a pebble, a tiny pebble which has been thrown into the vast ocean, left alone and left for good. Abondened, left to rot.
