It'd make me a little happier if the grass was a bit greener, but I can't help where it grows. You may be happy, but that's happiness I will never know. I've tried to end it all. I did it every day, because I just feel like ****. I know you know how it feels, to feel like this. But now I use my back, instead of on my wrist. But that's okay, no one would notice anyway. They'd see them, but would never say a **** thing.
This whole thing. Was just one long confession. I know that when I write this out, I'll just get one question.
"Are you okay?"
Of course I am, what else am I supposed to say?
"No, I hate myself, and I cry everyday."
I am supposed to be the man. I am supposed to be strong. But I don't know how much longer that I can go on. This hate is eating me up inside. This smile I show you, it's all just a lie. I use it to comfort myself and hide what's in my mind.