Try asking what's wrong. Nobody ever thought to try before, though, so it wouldn't suprise me if you didn't, either.

Supper is another meal to skip. If it were even on the table in the evening. I'm never hungry, anyways, so what does it matter to me?

Usless and unwanted. Yes, I know. Yet I'm still too scared to swallow.

Words are just words, speaking is just another sound.

Theropy is just sitting in front of somene who doesn't care. If I wanted that, I'd face my quote unquote, 'family'. 

You tried, I failed. I couldn't stay, no matter how you tried.

They were right, all of them.

Too weak, too scared, too broken to fix.

Beauty and happiness are things of the past, if they existed at all.

In the end, we all die. So why not get it out of the way now? Why prolong the misery and ceremonies that are no doubtedly faked?

After all the fight we go through, one fact remains, ever present and ever true:

We're all breaking, some already broken, some merely chipped or cracked.

But some of us are beyond repair, from the moment we saw light. From the day we were brought into this world, we wanted nothing more than to be taken out of it.

And I, being one of those people, believe we have every right to die.

We deserve to die, anyways, for causing trouble for you.

But we're stubborn and persistant. We stay.

Because we think it gets better.

The thing about being beyond repair, though, is that we cannot be fixed.

There is no better.

Only worse.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Boo