twenty five.

do I have the right to be depressed?
because I see all these people who have been bullied, abused, etc.
and I haven't experienced any of that.
I'm depressed about nothing.
I should be grateful.
this is just me complaining about a life that so many others would kill to have.

and every time I'm vocal about my problems or my desire to die, it never ends well.
everyone thinks I'm saying "kms" for attention.
is it for attention?
I guess, in a way it is.
maybe deep down I want somebody to help me.
to let me know I'm not alone.
or to save me from this pit I'm falling into.

I'm going to stop being vocal about my problems.
I won't tell anyone anymore.
there's no point.
no one believes me.
there's only pity and annoyance.
and heaping my problems onto other people doesn't make the problem go away.
it just makes other people worry.
they have their own problems.
and sometimes they don't care.
sometimes they ignore it.
there's no point.

nobody reads this anymore so it's okay.

I wish I could help you.
I know exactly what you're going through and yet I can't do anything because I don't know how.
please don't kill yourself.
it'll really suck and I'll miss you a lot.
I don't know how to make you see that you're not too negative.
that you're not at fault for anything.
that you shouldn't hate yourself for things you can't even help doing.

see, I know all these things.
but I can't apply it to myself.

I looked in the mirror today.
I think I am too fat.
I know I'm not.
but my thighs are too big and my stomach is always rounded.
so I'm going to skip breakfast and dinner.
I know this is not healthy.
I know that I will probably not lose weight like this.
but I will still do it.
the more messed up I am, the more chance I will take myself seriously.

even I have started to doubt myself.
I'm not sure if I really have depression because I've never been bullied or abused.
and anxiety too.

I stopped cutting and I don't get any urges to anymore.
does that mean I'm not depressed?
no one will take me seriously if I don't cut or try to kill myself.
I have a job that involves talking to people and I can kind of go outside without anxiety kicking in.
I talk to people on the phone too for my job.
does that mean I don't have anxiety either?
I'm not always shaking.
and I'm not extremely shy.
am I faking it?

what if I started to cut again?
where would I cut?
it's starting to get colder so I can probably slit my wrists without anyone seeing.
but what if I get bloodstains on the sleeves?
if I do little cuts it'll probably be okay.

anyway.
I will put all my thoughts here.
so it will not bother anyone.
and I will not be as much of a terrible person as I was before.

twenty four.

hey.

how are you?

we haven't talked in a while.

well, not properly, anyway.

recently, I've stopped.

thinking.

crying.

about you.

it's for the best, right?

after all,

things change.

feelings fade.

the more I meddle with your life,

the worse it gets.

and you don't deserve that.

I doubt I'm still anything to you.

except somebody you used to know.

maybe you even hate me.

but that's fine.

it was bound to happen.

I'm not sad.

at least, I don't think so.

maybe somewhere in the back of my mind,

I'm still hoping for things to go back.

to how they used to be.

so what am I living for now?

hope. I lived off it.

the hope you gave me used to be everything.

you were everything.

maybe you still are.

even now, I'm still stupidly hoping.

why did I put you up on a pedestal?

I know you hate this side of me.

I hoped that...maybe you wouldn't.

but you're like everyone else.

so why did I care so much?

this mind of mine won't get me anywhere.

no matter where I go,

no matter who I meet,

everyone will be the same.

so what's the point of living?

I don't really know.

I don't think there's any point,

since everyone hates me so much.

I wonder how long I'll live.