i swear it’s like i’ll never be able to breathe again. i haven’t had a taste of fresh air in so long, in too long.

i feel as though there’s a weight on my chest, constantly pushing me deeper into the ground.

i’ve asked for help time and time again, but here i am. still slitting my wrists, writing suicide notes, making permanent plans, isolating myself for months at a time, never getting better.

i don’t want to be alive anymore, it’s too hard.

i’m so fucking afraid of death but it’s all i think about and it’s the one thing that tempts me the most.

every day i wake up, i think about the date and i wonder how it sounds on a tomb stone.

february 22, 2019.

is that okay? does it even matter?

i don’t seem to know how to function in any sort of relationship anymore.

my physical health issues are only worsening and the doctors still don’t know why. i had to drop out of school for months because of it and i no longer have the life or friends from before. who knows if i’ll graduate.

i’m alone.

my eating disorder is still unknown and still thriving.

life is moving forward and i’m just stuck in my darkness.

i’m forced to live with my abusive father once again. he’s left on every occasion he could, but again, he’s back.

consent seems to slip past the mind of the boy i loved the most. i don’t know how to handle that one. i can’t address it. and it floods me with guilt. is it my fault? i never said no. i never pushed him away. i froze. why the fuck did i have to freeze?

and now here i am again, 2 am, awake and so unbelievably broken.

i think the best place to end it will be at school, that way there’s no possibility of my family finding me. and if i hide well enough, i’ll have time to finish the job.

but what comes after that? i no longer believe in heaven. the “relationship i had with god” disappeared long ago.

i just want some help. i just want the pain to end. i need everything to end.

what a fucking pity party. this will be the last one i throw, i promise.