I’m real fucking down right now, so pardon me if I’m lacking in coherence. 

I’m scared I’ll never be happy, and that I’m doomed to be a miserable little shit all my life. There is so much wrong with me  and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. No one understands it either. This feeling. It’s like torture. I struggle to even explain it -what it is I exactly feel. Everyone I’ve ever told tells me that I’m over dramatic, that what I’m feeling isn’t akin to what others are going through/ or that it is selfish for me to think so. But I’m hurting so bad, and they don’t know how painful it actually is. I’m not capable of happiness. It’s as if it’s the one emotion I was born without.

I’m so frightened of the world and everyone in it that I can’t even leave the house to go outside. Sometimes I’m able to, to find places I feel safe. But it’s very rarely that I do. I hide in my room all day writing and reading, and sometimes even then I have no power but to sit and cry and hurt myself in ways that override what I feel in my head. How long must I endure living in such hell? 

Sometimes I wish someone would just shoot me. Something quick, without warning. I wish I could kill myself -but I can’t. I don’t know how. I hardly have the courage to step out from my bedroom let alone jump off a bridge or slit my wrists. 

I’m writing a book. That’s the only reason for being here right now. I want to finish it and get it published. Maybe write another when I’m done. I don’t know. It’s all I’m good for. I haven’t got anything else. I have no friends anymore. They’ve all left me. I lost my best friend a year ago. I still cry about it nearly every night. They weren’t even nice to me, and yet I mourn them because I have no one else. 

Something terrible is inside me and it’s pulling me away from all things good. I feel sick with the fear of night, because that’s when the voices become louder. It seemed almost impossible to sleep, as if insomnia and depression went hand in hand. It’s like I’m drowning, while everyone around me is breathing. Like I’m imprisoned inside this inescapable bog, angry at everyone’s obliviousness that’s invading my lungs. They don’t see it. Or maybe they just choose to ignore it. My mum is the only other thing keeping me alive, and even then she doesn’t see how bad it gets at night. 

All I wish for is to be transported into a world where I feel no pain. Like a heaven of some sort. Maybe if I fell in love. Maybe feeling that would help make it bearable. I need something. I want somebody to tell me they love me. I can’t even go to school anymore. I can’t work either. I’m fuckinf useless and it’s embarrassing. I wonder if anyone would even want me. There is nothing to offer them over than sadness.