I’ll never be anything but this pathetic mess of a human being, too needy, too sensitive, too fucked up. Honestly, I want to die. I think of it constantly. The funny thing about it is that even when thoughts of suicide go through my head, I can still smile at people, pretend, strike up a somewhat decent conversation.
But I want to die. And then again, I don’t.
I’m not well. I’m not sure if I ever was. I can’t remember. But I can remember bits and pieces of fun and laughter and happiness. I remember kindess.
But dear god, I feel so empty and alone. Self-destructive. Unwanted. Unloved. An utter failure. I have achieved nothing in my life. Nothing worth remembering. Never touched anyone’s lives. Made no difference at all.
I’m not well.
I need help.
Tell me something nice.
No need for love, just understanding will suffice.
Smile at me.
Tell me I make a difference somehow, if just a little. That I’m not just a waste of space.
Help. Help. I’m drowning.
What am I good for
What am I good at
What is my place in the world
Why am I still here
And why do I still care.