No matter how you slice it, I will always be a burden to my family. I’m the sick one, the one who is always falling apart. I have wanted so badly to kill myself the last few days to relieve them of the burden that is me I can’t even begin to vocalize it. I guess I’m still depressed. I feel alone on the brink of madness, and I want to jump.
I’m so tired, so bone-weary. I know we all have our own burdens to bear but WHY? Why did I have to hate myself and want to die all the time? I know I’ll never get an answer, and I know it is just how it is, cold, unfeeling chance.
Some days I wish I’d never been born.
I’m just so tired.