Why do I feel this way? It’s not even a feeling, it’s just an emptiness in my chest. The feeling of never wanting to get out of bed because I have to live. It’s like I’m waking up into a nightmare. Where I have to be drunk or high just to feel something other than the hate I feel for myself. It’s the feeling of never being god damn good enough, even at the things I love. The thought of killing myself is constant but I think ‘don’t do it, you have so much to live for, do, and experience. ’ But what if I don’t. What if I live like this forever. Life is shit, and then you die. That’s it. And I really don’t want to live this life in pain.
-My thoughts past midnight