My thoughts are killing me. I want to tell everyone how I feel. I want to tell what has been going on in my life. I want my friends to know. To understand. I want to be honest with them. With myself. I just want them to be honest with me. And I really, really don’t want to lose them. But I know. I can’t tell the truth. It would be my end. So I lay here in my bed. With all my thoughts. And I torture myself. I hate myself.
bestrongbebraveandfindhappiness:
How can you be there when you should be here? Why aren’t you here? I need you to be here, I told you that and yet you went, and left, just left me here. What did you think was going to happen? What did you honestly think would happen if I was left alone? Well I mean I warned you, you didn’t…
Eenie meenie miny mo.
Let the pills slide down my throat.
One by one or two at a time.
I commit the perfect crime.
If I holler you will know.
I took my life I had to go.
This is my fate I need to go.
I feel to empty yet so much pain.
I can’t fucking take this anymore.
Shake off the madness.
Release the sadness.
I’m way too young to be broken.
I’m in a million pieces.
I’m unfixable.
