"God, I don't want to be empty inside anymore..."-Shawn Hunter (BoyMeetsWorld) ❤️
I want to raise awareness about depression and mental illness. It's often a lifelong struggle, and it's common. Don't be afraid to talk about it. You're missing out if...
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November 4th, 1994
Dad never came...he left, but this time for good. But I'm good. I'm good.
November 5th, 1994
Man, death sucks. Why do we have life when it just ends anyway? How can I feel even worse than before? He was coming home! Wtf, life? That was low. Way to hit me when I'm down.
November 6th, 1994
Everyone hates me. God must hate me...I'm a little orphan boy now. Alone, empty and alone.
November 7th, 1994
Damn, Turner hasn't left the house since we got the news. It's been a couple days. He's just as broken up as me. Neither of us have slept...I'm going crazy. He's done nothing but stare at me and pat me on the head, saying stuff like, "You okay, Hunter? You know I'm always here" and all this other gushy stuff. He doesn't get me, so I just snuck out when he went to the bathroom. Needed some space to think.
November 9th, 1994
I've been sleeping in the cemetery since I left...it's quite peaceful out here. No noise. No cares or worries. It's great...this is where I belong. At least I got my real family here, dead or alive. What's the difference? They weren't ever with me in the first place...It'll get better soon. Maybe the crows will lend me their feathers so I can fly and look death right in the eye. Or with my luck, they'll just pluck my eyes out. It'll be what it'll be I guess...I'm fine. It's gonna be fine.
November 10th, 1994
It's gotten extremely cold near the graves at night. At least I don't feel pain anymore. Numbness in my hands and feet...numbness inside. I feel more normal than I've been in a long time. Not even hungry. Maybe it's the cigarette butts I found on the ground. Sleep is sweet...But I can't believe no one has found me yet...probably haven't even noticed I was gone.
November 11th, 1994
Turner did in fact notice I was gone. Just took him awhile to find me. It was a rude awakening. Literally and figuratively. I was sleeping so long, too long. Whew. He was so steamed. It was like so awkward on the ride home. A motorcycle doesn't let you have any good exchange. It's too loud even to think. The silence between us was louder than anything though. Until we got home...then it was all words and so many tears. Couldn't get a word in edgewise. Haven't seen a grown man cry that much before. He said too much...I don't know how to process this. He said he loved me. What does that even mean? Man, did I break him?
