I listen to music wondering if I will make it.
Will I make it another day?
I close my eyes and try to imagine my future, I see nothing but darkness.
I wonder if I will live a long life?
I’m fantasying a lot about death these days.
I need to relive this stress.
I try to distract my mind from this pain.
I sit with my parents and hear them talk about their day.
They went to a few stores, I didn’t go.
I didn’t want to face the world today, I couldn’t not today.
Maybe I will go somewhere tomorrow.
I think about how my parents would feel if they knew I cut, I need to tell them.
I’m putting it off, how do you bring up something like this?
I have to tell them; I have tried recovery.
I can’t do it alone.
I’m hoping they will understand.
I don’t want to hurt them; I don’t want to cause them more pain.
I’m ****** up, they have had to do so much for me already.
I wanted to be a good kid.
I don’t want them to regret their choice of adopting me.
Because I feel like my mom does regret her choice of adopting me.