you know that classic love story
the boy sees the girl
she has beautiful shining hair and perfect skin
a smile that radiates like the sun
their eyes meet and they feel a spark.
well i have never heard a love story about a girl with a zitty face
a girl who wears big hoodies and sweatshirts everyday to hide her body that has too much flesh
a girl who
a girl whose smile is more fake than the foundation that she slams on her face to give the illusion of good skin
is that all we care about in this life?
the illusion of perfect
the illusion that the scars on her skin are from a cat
the illusion that you make so your parents can be proud of you
the illusion that living doesn't hurt like hell everytime you open your eyes
the illusion that everytime you wake up youre not terrified to live another day
i will never have a classic love story
because most days i wear big hoodies
because most days i can't smile
because most days i put my hair in a bun
because most days my face is exploding with red spots
suicidal depressed girls don't get happily ever afters.
in this story
the boy will look at the girl
he will see her
and he will look away.

Did you honestly think that filling me with pills and therapy would change my will to live?
you couldn't have really thought that.
You thought I was willing
to get better
to try harder
I am trying every ****** day'
I can't anymore
Right now all I can do is exist and I'm sorry if that is not enough for you.
snapping an elastic on my wrist
laying in my bed
my thoughts strangling me
I don't know why the hell I am like this
I have no right to feel like this
I have a family who loves each other
I am at college on scholarship
I should be happy
but I want to die
no matter what I do it will never be enough
My car is idling
on the side of this cliff
I am ready to fall
please just let me fall

My mom and Dad called me at 6:30 this morning and asked me "are you even trying to get better?" And the only thing I could say was "I'm working on it."
Like I don't know what the hell "better" means. Is it being the old fake perfect me? Going to church every week? Smiling and laughing at the right times?
Is that "better"?
Mom I don't even remember ever feeling good so I don't know how you expect me to get there.
People don't want to hear that you're struggling. They want to hear that you are getting better and if you are not getting better then you might as well just hurry up and die. Stop wasting their time.
Idk that's really dark and ******* up.
I'm just venting.

Ask me why I am wide awake at 2:36 am
Ask me why the lines on my skin are multiplying
Ask me why people keep leaving
I am so ******* up
my head is so ******* up
I keep remembering the nightmares
they replay over and over in my head on repeat
I am not getting as much sleep now
I don't know why I exist
I am tired of people asking me how I am doing
I have to lie
tell them what they want to hear
people never really want the truth
they don't want to hear
"I am struggling and I am drowning in my mind again and all I want to do is die"
they want to hear that you are getting better
and if you're not getting better then you should stop wasting their time and just die already
just slip away
The world is so ******* up
I don't want to be here anymore
2:26 am awake
lines going up my arms
people won't stop leaving
I just need sleep

I sit here looking at the sky
wondering if you are more like a sunset or a sunrise
this mark on my arm
looks more like a storm
black clouds covering the blue sky
your pale hands
strong
too strong
wrapped around my arm as you tossed me to the ground
I am just an object to you
one that changes colors
you seem to like the colors black and blue
my body is covered
stains left by you
I love you so much
I am sorry I had to escape
I still sit here staring at the sky
my hands are shaking
my head is chaos
you are a sunset
the sun dies but it is so beautiful
until the sky turns to dark
you turn dark
just like the sky
I hate you so much.

If I ever commit suicide I think that as I die there will be a flash of pictures of what my future could have been.
That's one of the only things keeping me here.
The hope that things will get better.

I'm sitting here trying to put my thoughts into words.
Trying to take my mind and type it up
Everytime I start writing I delete it
Like my head
Whenever I start to think
I press delete
Delete my mind
Delete my soul
Delete me
I'm empty now
All this erasing has me hollow
An old dead tree
Looks strong on the outside
Empty on the inside
Just cut me down
Please cut me down
I don't want to be here
Death isn't beautiful, but neither is living.
I just want this bullet to press the delete button in my brain.
I wish I never existed.