Why?
Why does my heart hurt?
Why is everything so different?
Why are there bad ppl out there?
Why are ppl so ignorant?
Why am I such an axxhole?
Why am I such a pathetic idiot?
Why do I have to suffer through all the hard times I have in my family everyday?
Why am I even living?
Why do ppl leave me?
Why am I always left out?
Why do ppl stay away from me?
Why am I so mean?
Why am I so careless?
Why do I care about ppl’s opinions so much?
Why is my art so ugly?
Why am I living?
What’s the use of keeping a knife and a noose in my room if I never use them?
Why can’t I die?
Isn’t death peaceful?
Wouldn’t everyone forget me?
Can’t I just die?
No one loves me.
So might as well rot in h3ll and die knowing that ppl don’t really care.
That’s what they want anyways, for me to go away.
Just let me die.
Please.
Let me die.