Dear Diary,
The tears came crashing down like a dam with too much pressure put against it.
I thought i would be able to push all my emotions down until the tiny box i had would make them fit.
I don't know how to live in a world where my mom isn't.
I am fighting, but it's like i am trapped in a maximum security prison.
How do I pick up the razor sharp pieces of my heart and sew them together again?
How do I leave the only home I've ever known for somewhere I've never been?

Dear Diary,
The pain is here and it is getting worse.
I don't know how much longer I can survive this curse.
I have cut my fingers till blood picking up the remains of my soul.
I don't think there is a place for me in this world, life has taken its toll.
When you wake up and it physically hurts to get up, why continue trying?
You're not here, so why bother trying to keep from dying?

Dear Diary,
It has gotten worse, I tried to tell someone about the pain I feel.
The only response I get is, "It's not real."
They say the only way my pain could be real is if they can see it on my face.
My smile is cold, and dead but somehow it seems to satisfy them enough not to chase.
I am almost to the edge, i don't know how much longer i can hold on.
Please, I am begging you hear my plea and help me stay strong.

Dear Diary,
I have had enough, the pain has come to a head.
All i ever do is lay down crying in my bed.
This is the last day i shall take a breath.
I am holding onto hope someone will see, and stop my death.
They didn't notice... or maybe they just didn't see, it's not fair.
Well this is it world, take care.