I want to overdose. I feel so alone, what would it matter if I was gone? Things would improve around here. No one would care.

I haven't got the guts. Not while there's a chance my sisters could find my body.

So I guess I'm hanging on. Wondering why nobody can help me. I'm too nice. Too nice to cut when they've asked me not to. Too nice to take my life when it could hurt them. Too nice to break down and cry because they have it worse than me.

But I'm dying...

I need someone to talk to. Someone to confide in. Because there is no one I can talk to properly.

I want to cut. I don't know why. I've felt fine all day and now suddenly I want to cut.

And excercise. A lot.

But I can't do either.

I need to talk to someone about how I feel but I've got no one.

I wish I could get help.

I wish I could tell someone how I feel.

I wish the feelings would go away.

But then I wish I could destroy myself.

I can't get help until I get worse.

Is it worth living in this half life forever, or is it worth getting worse so someone can help me get better?

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