Often I feel like I’m venting and yelling to nobody. There are no echos. It’s only my thoughts and feelings. I could list to you what makes me want to kill myself but it really does not matter.

I feel like I should die. It’d be nice. No more suffering. No more pain. Fear of rejection.

I’m tired of sobbing. I’m tired venting my feelings just to get it off my chest. For the last few months I’ve never been so close to killing myself. The urge to end my anxiety. To end my depression and suffering has grown to such colossal proportions that the weight paralyses me unless I decide to go to the nearest bridge and end it.

It’s such a immense urge. My insecurities amplified. My sense of self worth imploding.

But nobody cares. Maybe my parents but that’s the bare minimum. So what if it could be worse? Fucking could be better too.

I feel so very alone. I hate this world. I can’t seem to find my place in it and feel like I even matter.

I’m so tired of living. Doing this without a purpose. Someone to come home to. Someone whom I can support and love and cherish to make this all seem worth it. I can’t live for only myself. I don’t want to. But it seems like nobody sees my worth and if they can’t see it then how the hell am I supposed to?

I don’t feel valid. People laugh at me. Make me feel so little when I stutter or anxious. Like I’m incompetent. I am helpless and cannot do for myself.

Please… please for fucks sake something else kill me.