I want to die. I want to kill myelf. I want to see what’s on the other side. I am numb with pain. I wonder if anyone would even notice if i left this world. Would i have left a mark? Would i have made a difference. I don’t know why i continue to live. I am just another brick in the wall, another face in the crowd, another who is suffering.
I don’t eat. I am not hungry. I don’t have the energy to eat. They say i have an eating disorder. No. This is just a slower, more painful form of suicide.
People talk about death as a bad thing, but i don’t think it is. Suicide is a way- a very effective way that people end their pain. Or satisfy their curiosity. Or aviod problems. Or aviod people. People take their life because they are suffering. And for the rest of the world, please re think your options before you do something; you have a reason to live. You are good looking, you are smart, you can make it with out other people’s help.
I walk around, aimlessly, my head is stuffed with cotton wool, i can’t think straight. All i can do to ease the pain, to mute the memories is to think about death. It seems so appealing…
As i take these tablets (screw starving myself to death, i need to leave now), let people know that this is what i want. There’s so many of them, white little chemicals of hope. Hope to die… Hope to sleep forever… Hope for and end… An end to the memories… An end to the fatness… An end to the hate… An end to the false hope…