22:26

Why the hell am I still alive right now. What did I do wrong to still be living this hell at this moment?
I could kill myself right now and no one would notice. Yet I stop myself because I’m too fucking scared of what will come after I die. I would happily have a meal of pills and wash it down with bleach if I weren’t so afraid. That’s the thing though. I’m getting less afraid. I just want out now. 

My counselling’s stopped because I’m “better”. 
Am I better drowning myself in alcohol?
Am I better smoking again?
Am I better ruining every inch of skin people don’t see?
Am I better sneaking down in the middle of the night, sitting with every pill in the house in front of me, trying not to kill myself?
Because if so, I am so much fucking better. 

Truth is, it doesn’t even hurt anymore. Knowing that nobody really cares doesn’t phase me now, because I have completely stopped caring myself. My “anxiety” has rooted down to me simply hiding away from everyone instead of being worried constantly. My “depression” has become so fucking empty I can’t tell if I’m awake or sleeping. My “derealisation” has become a realisation that l don’t matter because even I can’t notice me when I’m talking. 

If I could pause the world, I would do it. I would pause it for as long as it would take me to find the quickest and simplest way of dying. 

I don’t know why I bother writing these anymore. Nobody reads them. Nobody cares. I don’t know why I’m writing this, because people see it and then just carry on with their day. 

I’m sorry if people did care. I’m sorry that you’ll probably never see this, or actually bother to read all of this.

To the people who knew me;
I’m sorry I’m so fucking annoying. I’m sorry my fat ass couldn’t realise that no one wanted me around. I’m sorry my mortifying face couldn’t stop talking when people obviously didn’t like it. I’m sorry you ever had to meet me. 

To the people who hated me;
I hate me too. 
I’m so glad neither of us will have to see me again. 


~

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