I’m slightly drunk but still incredibly aware of how fundamentally fucked I am. I have been struggling for so long with depression and I never mention it to anyone. I never say how hurt I feel, how often over the years I have raged against killing myself. I have fought like crazy to make it this far and to still have these moments, burns like salt in an open wound. Why does it hurt so much? Why can’t I be okay? I’m so tired of feeling this way. These words do no justice. I want to say it gets better and I suppose it has but this sickness only seems to twist and turn into something else. I think I should’ve killed myself a long time ago. I wasn’t meant to make it this far. I feel so stupid. There is so much suffering in the world and I can’t even manage to beat this dead feeling inside me. I feel like a loser and I probably am. Out of all the people that die too soon and here I am with my jagged pieces. Doesn’t seem right.