She asks me why do I want to die? I can't tell her that I've been trying to avoid this. I can't tell her that I lived two out of thirty days of the month and the month before and the month before that. I can't tell her that I've been sitting on the couch this whole time and I've been staring at the TV watching the shows I don't give a **** about. She loves me. She loves me so **** much it hurts. And I am like the fluffy teddy bear who gives her warmth and comfort but can't love her back.
And when she asks me "Why do you want to die?" It's with a ***** in her voice, Teary eyes. I don't have a reason because there are so many, it's insane. To see her hurting like that is one of those. But I can't tell her that.
She cuddles me like everything depends on it. Like all the pain will melt away with a hug. And poets have written about how their pain goes away with the touch of their beloved. Then why does it not work?
Why does it feel like winter when its warmer than summer? Why do I feel that I should run away before she wakes up, because then in the morning I won't have to say "I can't do it anymore!"?
I have thought of a hundred ways to die, but I don't want to think how she will react when she hears it. I can't stop thinking about her. I can't tell her; I love her. Because then she'll cry harder, it'll hurt her! I hurt her. I've hurt her so many times, I can't do it anymore.