Maybe it was the first time I thought about death.Maybe it was the first timeI wished I could die.Maybe it was the first time.I actually tried to **** myself.or the next few times.

I ask myself why I didn't succeed the first time
Or the next.What's the point of living.When I died inside the first time death crossed my mind.

Its like I'm waiting for the end desperately.I fear that one day I'll force it on my self.Is it true some people die before their time?Should I call them lucky?

What is the point of living.If every day I feel lost, lonely, empty.....What is the point in believing.
When every day reminds me I've failed.Searching impossible sources for happiness...Being reminded daily that sadness and bad things happen.

They say I am ungrateful and difficult.Every one only sees the things I want as exaggerating life.Do they ever wonder what their words do to me?Do they ever worry that I feel rejected and alone?Do they ever miss me when I am out of sight?

Whats the point in staying here if I'll never belong?

I have thought about therapyTelling a stranger my sad damaged mind....Because I feel so depressed right now and I have felt like this for so long I am just tired to having to hold back the tears when all I want to do is scream and die.