Don't cry,
Don't eat,
Don't lie,
Don't die,
Be pretty,
Be natural,
Be social,
Be quiet,
Be yourself...




*But Not Like That.

Her mind lives in a quiet room,
  A narrow room, and tall,
With pretty lamps to quench the gloom
  And mottoes on the wall.

There all the things are waxen neat
  And set in decorous lines;
And there are posies, round and sweet,
  And little, straightened vines.

Her mind lives tidily, apart
  From cold and noise and pain,
And bolts the door against her heart,
  Out wailing in the rain.

I could try every possible way to justify my sadness to you.
But it still wouldn't make sense because the only way anyone who doesn't already feel this way can see it is, as
              attention-seeking.

No combination of 26 letters is gonna be able to encompass it.
And I could tell you how I'm feeling

but sad is really mild.

You have no idea  how it feels to simply be walking home then suddenly start hating yourself and knowing that
                         this is it
                                        this is how it is
                                                                    and nothing
                                                                                              is gonna change that.

You won't be able to comprehend how much misdirected hate there is everywhere when in actuality it's an individual causing it.
And I know you believe that I'm driving myself into this state because you believe I feel unloved or unappreciated... but it runs so much deeper. So so much deeper.

It's like...
                not feeling safe and comfortable within yourself
                It's like...
                                looking out of a tiny hole in a box because you're not like the other kids
                                You see things differently but you try.
                                                                                   You try to fit in.
                                                                                   You try to smile
                                                                                                               and be happy
                                                                                                                                       and laugh
                                                           and find joy in the littlest things.

        And yet, it isn't real.
                                                           It's all forced because you have to try, to feel that way.

                                        For most people it comes naturally.

Trying to explain to you why I feel the way I feel, could end up to be a string of gibberish lined up to sound nice but
                             at the end of the day it's really simple:
                                                                                                                       I hate myself

                                    I know I shouldn't and I know
                                    I'm not a killer or a ****** or a
                                    thief... but I hate myself.


                                                                                                      And that is it.

To whomever who may be reading this,

I've heard that sometimes sadness can't be explained.
Sometimes the reason it's there is because it just is.
The same way that when someone asks you why you're okay, you say you just are.
And why you simply accept that colours exist because they just do.

Like how if you were to ask that boy at that school on New Years' Day why he loved that girl he could prattle on about her pros and cons but fact of the matter is that it was just her. And she was just everything he could ever hope for in that moment.

And that is how I'd like you to explain my death.


                                                                                        It just happened.


I came home that day and I just felt immensely dissatisfied with my existence.
So I carved my arms and wore my favourite dress only to stain it with blood.
Then I took those sleeping pills I bought of that kid by the alleyway and swallowed them all.

It wasn't your fault, Mom.
                                             You thought I was strong enough.
It wasn't your fault, Dad.
                                           I just didn't believe anymore.

To my brothers and sisters and aunts and cousins,
                                                                                     none of you would've seen it coming.

It's none of your faults. It's mine.

                                                         And I know I'm going straight to hell but I deserve to burn for my sins.



Goodbye.

why are you sad?
Should I blame you?
I want to.
I wish so badly that I could point my finger
and truly believe myself when I
curse you for hurting me this way.
Should I blame God?
Why did you let this happen to me?
What the hell are you doing up there?
Why are you sad?
Should I blame destiny?
It was always supposed to end up like this.
HELP ME!
WHY AREN'T YOU HELPING ME?
And the reality that I am to blame for this,
reaches out it's icy cold hands and wraps them around my neck,
choking every last bit of air from my lungs.
WHY ARE YOU SAD?*
I can never escape my own mind.
I'm trapped here forever.
Suffocating.
slowly,

s u f f o c a t i n g

I know there are a lot of people
who are willing to say that
they hate themselves
But you can usually tell which
ones actually mean it
It's a heartbreaking thing-
to watch someone loath
their own existence
I never said it
Because I wasn't looking for
a comforting disapproval of my
disordered thoughts or a
flattering disagreement about
the way my hair fell or the size of my waist
I didn't care to be persuaded otherwise
I didn't consider it a possibility to think
any differently and so
I left it inside my mind
And that's a small part of the reason why
I knew it was entirely real
And still,
I can't honestly describe
exactly what it's like
It's not all violent
Depressing
Ugly
And
Dark,
hating yourself
It doesn't beg to scratch its
way out of your skin,
hating yourself
It stays hidden inside your skull
And no one outside of you
seems to have the intuition
necessary to connect the dots
The way you step over yourself
Like a grave
You don't think twice
You're not your own concern
You're looking at the people
who live all around you
Just to avoid the person who lives inside you
Doing everything in your power to make
sure they are as okay as they can be
Because you have decided you'll never
recover but you long to
see someone else rise out of the rubble
He loved me mercilessly
And I loved him painfully
But I couldn't bare the burn
of his eyes focusing on mine
I felt like I was the punch line of some sick joke
There was no way someone so flawless
Could care for someone as plagued as me
So I pushed and pushed and pushed
Until the distance was evil
But somewhere along the love I had for him
I found the love I have for me
Burrowing itself into the ground
I grabbed it by the ankles
And pulled it from the soil
He's long gone since
And now I just can't understand
Why there isn't a person in this world
To love me as much as I do
What's wrong with their eyes
What's wrong with their minds
I'm fine
So fine
What are they missing
When they look me in the eyes?