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An excerpt from my diary for anyone that feels the same way, you're not alone...
I do not know what it means to be alive. I only know what it means to survive.
This is what I have been doing whether I realized it or not since I was young. But I realized now that my life does not have any meaning. Everyday I wake up and ask why? Why couldn't I have just died in my sleep? Why couldn't I be run over by a car on the way to school? Why can't I just stop being alive anymore? Death would be the best punishment for me, all I can do right now is sh and watch myself bleed. It doesn't even hurt anymore but the shame I feel afterward never goes away. Why can't I just be normal and hardworking like everyone else? My classmates are all so smart and their lives are perfect or at least better than mine. Everyday if and when I fall asleep I pray that morning never comes. I do not know how to ask for help anymore because no one understands. They will just lock me up in some hospital and throw away the keys until I am fragile and withered where a single gust of wind will cause me to disintegrate. As much as I do not want to be alive anymore I would rather spare myself that form of torture. So what do I do I sit here at night with the blood dripping down my arms feeling the sting of the cut against my shirt wondering again why I am alive? I do not remember the last time when I was truly carefree not worrying about the next thing I had to do or what class to do homework for or how to get into college. I wish all these burdens could get lifted off of me. I imagine a version of myself who is sitting in the clouds watching the lives of others go by, watching night turn into day, and rain turn into shine. I think I would like that, that would be a nice place to live after I die. I think I'll go there.
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