This is no exaggeration, but I don't remember a day when I wasn't scared of life.

I never learned how to just live in the moment, and it wasn't like I had a bad home.

I had good parents, siblings, a safe household. But I still turned out this way.

I'm grown now, well past the age of immaturity. Yet, I still fall for these lies.

I'm tired of it all. Like I told the lady over the phone the other day.

I'm ashamed of all that I am. I am not who I wanted to be.

I used to want to make a name for myself. Now I pray nobody knows I ever existed. 

I shredded the memories at work, all the happy smiles of people who must hate me now.

I deleted them all, without a word.

I'm preparing for the end that was 25-years in the making.

The worst thing you could do is praise me. Compliment who I am.

It is because of that I carried hope for so long, and all I wish for now is for someone to just listen

Hear what I'm saying. Take my hands, and agree.

"You're not strong enough for this."