I want to try something... I want to use quotes in my work in a way. Anything that is an image is a quote, not my own words.

Part of me is trying to convince my brain that they're right.
That I'm fine, that it'll be alright.
But the other part of me knows the truth.

Sometimes it's better to lay down before you become even more wounded.
Sometimes it's better to stop fighting so hard.
Sometimes you have to give up.
Sometimes they're better off without you.

You know this.
You know it's true.
You know they don't like you.
You've been told.
By some themselves.
To get out,
To suffer alone,
To never come back,
To die all alone.

Why don't you just kill yourself?

You're right, all of you.

Why not?

Because I have a certain few that keep telling me that I can't.
The other day someone asked me if I was scared I was going to do something again.

They asked me if I was scared I would cause myself pain yet again.

I lied.
I always lie.

I'm not scared of that. I'm scared that somebody will convince me otherwise and I'll regret it later like I always do.

For after all...

Is that what I've become?

Is this where I am?

Stuck in the middle of the road,
Living in the in between,
Unable to live for myself?

Yes, that's where I am.
What am I expected to do about it?

Sometimes I feel the urge to beg for help,
The urge to ask certain people to lie to me.

One day I did.
I choked on the words.

I wanted to ask him to lie to me,
Tell me it would be alright,
Tell me life was worth living,
Tell me he cared,
Tell me I have friends,
Tell me I'm not alone,
To tell me all these things and more,
To comfort me the best he could.

I choked.

Do I even want to get better?

I'm mean,
I deserve all this, don't I?
I deserve the pain,
The misery,
The sorrow,
The nights that never end,
And the days that last not nearly long enough.

I don't get what I deserve,
Not even a fragment of it.

I'm a bomb waiting for impact,
I'm a sky waiting to fall,
I'm all this and so much more.
Simply waiting for the day it all comes to a stop.

Then why do I still beg for help?
Why do I beg for mercy?
Why do I tell somebody that I wouldn't care if they hit me, because I deserve it, but then panic when the threat is paid by someone else?

Somebody explain my mind to me.

I'm waiting for the day someone stops me,
Waiting for a break,
Waiting for relief that will never come.
Waiting for a peacemaker,
Waiting for someone to save me,
Helpless me.

Everything I'm saying is fake.
The smiles,
The laughs,
Everything.
Is this how I want to live?
No.
But what option do I have?
Let go?
Trust me, I've tried letting all of my problems go.

It doesn't work.
It can't work,
Not with me.
Not with my messed up mind.

I'm waiting for the day
That someone sees how broken I am.
I'm waiting for the day they recall the moment when I broke.

I've been wanting to break down in front of them for a while,
But can't.
I can't hurt them like that.
So instead I find myself lashing out,
I find myself screaming for the voices in my head to stop, make them stop, please.

I need it all to stop.

It's all fake.

Soon someone will recall the day I broke.

In a way in which they finally see what is happening.

Why am I like this?
Why can't I be happy like the rest of them?
Why can't I be trusted?
Why can't I be loved?
Why can't I be normal?
Why can't I be stable?

Why can't I be happy?

"Why can't you get better?"
I don't know... I'm doing my best.
"Why can't you be happy, you're not good at it."
I don't know.
"We get it, you want to kill yourself, no one cares."
Stop.
Do you think you're helping?
Is that what you think?
Do you realize what you've done to me?
I'm broken, I have nothing left, I have no hope.
When I get it, I call myself delusional.
When I don't, I wish for it.
I wish someone would lie to me.
But nobody cares enough to do so.
I'm just so... young, so fragile... so... unhappy.
Or at least they say.

I don't feel young.
I know I'm fragile.
I know I'm unhappy.
I don't need this pointed out.
I've heard it enough times.
I've heard that it'll get better,
I desperately want to believe so.

But I can't.

I'm too lost for that.

Is it too late for me?

Is my run over?

Because it feels like it.

I didn't want to end up like this.
I don't want to be like this.
I don't want to be me.
So don't tell me I chose this.
Don't tell me I'm faking it all.
Don't tell me I'm making myself this way.
Don't tell me I just don't want to be happy.
Don't tell me I'm not trying hard enough,
Because I'm doing my best.
And I know that's not enough.

Do you still care?
I'm dying to know.
Don't blame this on me,
Because I know, that even though I want to believe it, it's not all my fault.
Some people could have helped.
People I see face to face everyday.
But I'm left stranded, back in the middle of the road.

Searching for answers that will never come.
Refreshing my phone for texts that will never be sent,
Waiting for words that will never be said,
Waiting for my brain to change.
Waiting for my life to go back
To how it all was.

I used to desperately want to get better.
But now... do I have the motivation?
I don't have reason.
I don't have friends to run to,
I'm too worried about bothering people.
I don't feel like I'm allowed to talk to them anymore.

Because in a way, I'm not.

And they'll never understand because I can't ever tell them the entire truth.

It's killing me to think about it.

Do you want me to lie again?
Do you want me to say it'll be ok, that I'm better?
Do you know how much that killed me?
You say you want me alive,
Don't you?
Sometimes that feels like a lie, do you know that?
Most of the time.

I'm sorry for being so sad, all the time. I'm sorry for being me, for being so bad.
I'm sorry I can't change anymore,
I'm sorry I'm making you feel unsure,
I'm sorry for being negative,
For insulting you all.
But... am I allowed to show things?
Am I even allowed to... do anything?

Am I allowed to speak without being shot down,
Am I allowed to be comfortable in the crowd?
Am I allowed to be anything other than the mess that I am?
Is that even allowed?

I need answers, and I need them now.
I can't do this, not here, not now.

Someone warned me my laugh sounded fake today.
To everyone around us it sounded like a joke,
But I think we both knew the truth.

My friend was right,
He always is.

I need to fix this,
But I can't.

I just... can't.

And people don't understand that,
But what is there to say?
I'm done, I'm done, I'm done.
I'm sick of the remarks.
I'm sick of playing around,
I'm sick of it all crashing down,
I'm sick of it all.
I am done.

Because the thing is, people have started to tell me...

And I do.
I truly do.
School has become a place where I fake it.
I fake it, because it's safer.
Then I come home and collapse.
I wake up and break down,
Fall asleep wanting to do something to soothe the pain.

For the longest time I couldn't pretend.
I couldn't fake a thing,
Then... I thought people cared.
I let people get close. Too close.
I wasn't eating. There were only certain people who could even get close to getting me to eat.
Most of the time they succeeded.
Now they don't even try.
Now... since it got better for a while...
People think it's supposed to stay that way.
But I am the worst I've been in a long time right now.

Am I alive
Or simply breathing?