I’ve done it before.
I’ve attempted it before.
I tried to end my life before.
And during that time…
Was when I felt the most happiest.
I wish to feel that happiness again.
Even though I couldn’t feel anything.
The thought that went through my head,
“I can finally leave. I can finally escape.
I can finally end it all.”
Made me feel something I haven’t felt before.
I’m craving it again.
I want that true happiness.
I want to attempt it again.
Because that’s how I’ll be able to feel it again.
Yeah, I care about the people around me.
I know if I actually did attempt,
they would be upset.
But at the same time…
That’s selfish of them.
To want me to stay when I only suffer.
No way to express myself.
Nothing to help me.
I can only truly feel happy
when I finally pass on.
I crave the feeling to slip away.
I crave the feeling to know that
I’m about to die.
I only felt true happiness when that happened.
What is there in life for me?
I don’t want it.
A successful job?
I don’t care.
Spending my life with my SO?
I don’t know.
Nothing seems worth it anymore.
No one cares except two people.
So why not go?
I’d only disappoint two people anyway.
I wouldn’t make too many people sad.
I wouldn’t have to make many people worry.
I wouldn’t have to have many people mourn me.
So what’s stopping me?
From reaching my true happiness?
Maybe a wrong sense of time.
Possibly not enough materials.
Something’s stopping me.
I can’t leave things go unfinished.
Maybe that’s why.
I have to finish what’s left for me.
It isn’t much anyway.
Maybe it could be complete soon.
I don’t want to keep my true happiness waiting.
I want to feel it again.
I want to feel truly happy again.
The pain is too much.
It’s almost unbearable.
I don’t want to lose you.
I don’t want to hurt you.
But yet I hurt you when I never thought that I did.
And I’m scared I’m about to lose you, too.
I’m nothing without you.
It feels like my life would be meaningless without you.
I don’t know what to do without you.
It hurts a lot.
To hear you say these things to me.
I know you don’t mean it.
And I know that you don’t want to hurt me.
But the words you’re saying to me is just too much.
It hurts a lot for you to say the things you said.
I’m so stressed.
I can’t eat or drink or even sleep well.
My chest hurts a lot and I feel like I’m about to puke.
I want to tell you how much I would want to die without you.
But I feel like it’d make you even more upset.
I don’t want to make you upset.
I don’t want to make things worse.
But that’s all it seems like I’m doing.
I want to make things better between us.
But, I’m just so useless.
I can’t be of help.
You said it, too.
I can’t help.
I want to help.
But I just cant.
Fuck, among all the stress I’m under, this is the worst of it all.
Hearing you say these things.
I don’t want to hear them, but how else would I know?
I’m so clueless.
I probably couldn’t put together a puzzle even if it came with the answers.
I really hate myself so much now.
I just make things worse.
I’m really trying to fix them.
But how am I supposed to fix something when I’m just the problem?
Blood pouring onto the window pane.
What do I have to lose only to gain?
My broken heart became fragile and rigid.
Walking across these broken bridges.
Hoping to find a new goal.
To help shape and mold my lost soul.
Thinking back to a past once happy.
That eventually turned into one more crappy.
Losing hope and sight for my cursed dream.
Forgetting what they all used to mean.
Nightmares haunt and cursed my putrid life.
Bringing nothing but conversations that end in strife.
My broken heart may never mend.
Once someone realizes that, it’ll be the end.
Because being myself is not good enough.
Because not being kind enough will build a lonely atmosphere around me.
Because acting on what I think will make me alone.
Why do I have to be a certain way to prevent loneliness?
I’m always alone, but why?
I try my hardest to not be alone.
I try my hardest to be well-liked.
Yet I am still alone.
Yet I still am well-disliked.
I can’t be the best that you want me to be.
I can’t be the kindest person to help whenever you ring that bell.
I can’t be the problem-less person so I’ll have more time for you.
I’ve given my time to help.
But you just push me away.
And when you really need me, I’m not there.
Just as how you weren’t ever there for me.
But yet I still end up as the bad guy.
I’m still the bad person.
I’m still the cold-hearted human being who has to act like I have no problems.
Well, fuck you.
I have problems of my own.
You’re not the only one with problems.
You’re not the only one who has to deal with difficult situations.
No, you’re not.
I have problems of my own to deal with.
Demons of my own to conquer.
Dreams to fulfill.
A life to go through.
Stop it with you’re petty acts of desperately calling for attention.
Those acts get answered.
Those calls for “help” were answered.
What about mine?
What about my calls for help when I’m struggling to climb up the edge of the cliff?
Why weren’t mine answered?!?!
They didn’t matter.
They were only part of the being who gave up being kind to the people who didn’t care about her.
Those calls for help never mattered.
She didn’t matter.
I didn’t matter…
“No matter what I do with my life, there will be a day when no one cares that I existed.”
“Death is your friend. Since it walks beside you your whole life.”
I don’t know how it originally is said. But this is what I think it said.