I never thought I'd make it this far.
The suffocating grip of disappointment has always been on my shoulders ever since I drew my first breath.
A constant reminder that I will never be anything worthy of life.

I'd always dreamed about hanging on the moon, the string of stars as my noose, and the stillness of space as my final breath.
A recreation of something I've always thought of.

In a few days, I'd bring death to this worthless body.
A husk and an illusion of my past and present self.
I'm writing this to bring peace to my own human mind.
The final thoughts of a worthless life.