"Everyone has a story to tell. There’s a reason why they are the way they are. So, before you start talking, please look in me, in my eyes of words, where I pour everything that crippling up inside my only heart that still beating alive. There will be some connections between our lines where we could meet up at some point, understand each other. Spread the love that once we had. Stay safe & stay alive."

I have Killed Myself

I lay awake in the early hours of the morning, pillow stained with tears and eyes burning a bright red. My body is numb and my chest aches from feeling empty.





A thought of death crosses my mind but quickly go away because I know that leaving isn't the answer. I know that leaving will not make anything better, maybe anything could be more worse as much as people said.

--But someways, I'd wish for death. Though I wish death would make everything better.

I have managed to push nearly every person that cares about me away because I fear that I will drag them down with me, but I’m okay with that. 
I’ve saved them the hassle of having to decide to leave themselves. I’m lonely, but I’m okay with that. I’m comfortable with being alone. I’m comfortable with being by myself. 


I’m exhausted. 

--Not because I haven’t slept, but because I’m constantly having to fight with myself, because I’m constantly having to find a way to block out my thoughts and because I am constantly having to be someone I’m not to make sure nobody knows how I truly feel. I don’t want them to feel sorry for me, I don’t want them to have to pretend like they care and I don’t want them to feel like they must help me. I also don’t want them blaming themselves, I don’t want them to feel as though they are part of the reason I am like this because they aren’t. I’ve done this myself. I take full responsibility. 


Don’t get me wrong, I do want help, but I feel as though I’ve passed the point of ever feeling okay again. Everything I try, every stranger I talk to and every medication I have taken does nothing but make me feel worse because I don’t want to rely on other people or medication to make me happy. I want to be able to rebuild myself and be happy again on my own, but I know that won’t happen. Not for a long time anyway. But I’m okay with that, because not everyone can be happy all the time. 


And I have killed myself, but I haven’t taken my own life. I’ve killed my happiness, I’ve killed my relationships, both with friends and family. I’ve killed my positive thoughts, my spirit, my emotions, my feelings, my heart, my soul. I’ve killed every single part of me without having to kill myself, because I’d rather put myself through pain than put others through it. 


But I’m okay with that.

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