.Vent.

Why can’t I just be happy? This sensation of drowning is finally taking its toll. The people that used to need me now monitor my mental health. Am I a danger to them while I’m a danger to myself? I don’t know how to ask for help. This is hell. This repetition has become exhausting and I lied when I said I was better before. I don’t want to cause anymore grief than I’ve already bestowed. This is self loathing at its finest. There’s a monster living inside my head and these sentences could never get it out. It’s only a matter of time now. This is comatose. This is agony. I became everything I never wanted to be. I’ve got old letters, torn pieces of paper and they’re scattered about as reminders. I used to be alive and then something inside me suddenly broke and apart of me died. Now I’m fighting deep sadness alone, and it’s better this way, I suppose. I never intended for this emotional turmoil, my friends, and it hurts me to my bones. I want to go. I can’t put anymore people through my sadness and I’m sorry that this dragged out in the first place. I hate myself and I don’t deserve anything. Life has been rough on me, but being scarred isn’t an excuse to drag other people down with you.
I’m sorry.