may 22nd, 2017. monday
i don't want to live. i don't want to breathe anymore i don't want to struggle anymore i don't want to wake up anymore or struggle to fall asleep anymore. i don't want to think about suicide anymore. i don't want to be depressed anymore.
but i don't want to die, either.
i don't want my family to cry buckets of tears when i'm gone. i don't want them to whisper in hysteria that i was trying so damn hard. i don't want them thinking that my hurt and pain was somehow all from them. i don't want their memories to haunt them daily. i don't want them falling apart, trying to pick up pieces of their hearts- i don't want them to have to deal with my room. would they just close the door and never venture in there anymore? i don't want them sobbing at what they find inside my notebooks and diaries. i don't want them to say "i wish we would have seen". i don't want my friends to miss me at school, eternally. i don't want them to think they weren't good enough for me. i don't want them to house regrets inside their bodies. i don't want them to stare at our conversations in text, or look back at my social medias and sink into sadness. i don't want people posting "i miss you everyday" on my facebook page.
but. would they? would they miss me everyday? i fear some would but the majority would not be haunted by my ghost. and all the people who tried to help me might feel like they're worthless and that they're not good enough at what they do, they couldn't help a person who would rather die than live with pain.
but there's the thing. when i look at all this? i don't want to die. i don't want to live. i don't want to be born to begin with.
i just want to sink into oblivion.
