Sometimes I wonder why I'm here. Why I'm alive. You can't control that you were born. But you can control if you die, sometimes at least. Like suicide. You control it for your self. But I don't know if I can anymore. Insanity is over powering the sanity and I begain to wonder. I wonder what happen when I die. When I'll die. How I die. I wonder if it'll be soon. If all the misery goes away. Or If it stays. I wonder if you'll be there. If it'll be okay. I cover myself with a costume. With a fake smile. A fake laugh. Fake interest. Fake desire. All because I am afraid. Afraid of everyone else will think. Thankfully they believe it. They believe the mask I put on. They believe I'm okay. But in reality I'm not okay, I'm tired of it. Tired of putting that mask on everyday, all day. I'm tired of not being okay, of not meaning the lols that I send, of the I'm goods I say, of the perfectly fines I give out like a flyer. But I'm the flyer that says and shows lies. I'm not okay. Help me. Talk to me. I need that person. That person to push back my darkness. I need that friend. Just someone to talk to. To rant to. Just to talk about my day. But I don't want a shrink. A person who sits there and listens to me just to think I'm crazy, that I'm insane, that my sanity is quickly slipping away now. I don't want someone that's being paid to listen to me, put me on meds. I just want a friend. And I feel I don't have that friend because I've always have been that friend. I'm NOT okay.
