[size10 [+grey I crave the pain you cause me. But really it’s the pain I cause myself. I can’t describe emotions other than they’re varying degrees of pain. I suppose all I know is pain.
Is happiness just another form of pain? I wouldn’t know. I’m really only familiar with the dull ache of sadness. I’m not sure if I’ve felt anything else in my life. My past is nothing more than a common tragedy, and my future seems like it won’t be any different.
I’m supposed to be dead in four years, based on how I’ve always felt. Never meant to live past thirty, if I even make it at all. I’m fumbling through life because I never thought I’d live this long.
Death is terrifying, yet I’ll never understand how I’m still alive. I should’ve died by my own hand years ago. Who knows why I haven’t. Maybe that’s where all my luck has gone. Gone towards keeping me alive. But why? So I can suffer every single day? I suppose that’s my fate.
I don’t think I’ll ever escape the clutches of this depression. 18 years have gone by of dealing with this, with little to no reprieve. What’s the point in all of this; causing people to suffer with no end in sight.
All I can think of are the people I looked up to that ended taking their own life. If they couldn’t make it, then what chance do I have?
Little to none, I imagine.]]
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