Why is it that everyone wants me to keep living in misery? They think they can help? They think they'll find something that will work? They want me to work through it. My dad went through it over and over and over again until he couldn't anymore and killed himself at the age of 52.
I cut myself for the first time today. I tried to write the word 'broken' into my arm, but it was taking forever and i'm a wuss so all I've got are a couple of little lines. They barely scratched the surface.
I keep thinking of different ways to kill myself but they all frighten me......and who's to say death would even hold any relief anyways?
I wish there were some way I could not exist.
I wish I could just keep sleeping and someone else would take care of Ethan.