I'm just tired.
I'm fine.
I'm okay.
I always say these things.
I'm always tired, but not from the lack of sleep.
I'm tired of school, tired of being a good kid, tired of all the bullshit.
I'm fine.
I'm not fucking fine.
I'm not fucking ok.
I wear a fake smile all the time.
I prefer my glasses over contacts because they hide the bags under my eyes.
There are good days.
And...
There are bad days.
It's just that the bad outnumber the good.
Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I just kill myself.
But then I think to myself....
Would anyone miss me?
Would anyone notice?
Then I think of my mom and my siblings.
And I can't go through with it...
I can't do that to them...
I just can't....
Which, I guess is a good thing.
I hear that things can get better, that they will get better.
But...
Things just keep getting worse.
And worse.
And worse.
But...
I'm holding on.
I'm holding on while things just seen to be pulling me down.
Like my depression.
Like having anxiety.
But I'm still holding on.
Still holding...
By just a thread...
Hopefully that thread won't break....
