What's meant to be, will be.

You don’t get it and you never will. It takes one word, those 5 letters. To ruin everything. Everytime.

I really want to kill myself. First thought: that wouldn’t be fair to you.

Escape.

I want to run, as far away as i can get. Until my heart stops hurting so bad. Until i feel like i can wash it of the darkness that fills it and embrace new, good love. I want to stop feeling like my heart is being crushed by a billon rocks and stop being so scared to tell people. To talk, about how bad it hurts. I dont know why it does. I’ve dealt with it my whole life. It’s just. I want my life to be good, and happy and there to be no screaming, no beating, no fear, no hate. Just happiness and contentment. To not wake up and no that deep down. I am so fucked up, its not even okay. And i want people to stop turning to me with their pain and disregarding my own. Pushing it down, pretending it doesn’t hurt. It’s easier than taking about it. And i dont know why that is. It’s just talking, whats hard about that?

Maybe it’s the fact that you’ll see how fucked up i am. Maybe its because you’ll know i’m weak and i can’t handle this. So i ignore it. I don’t want to hurt. I just want to be okay.

The thought of killing yourself. It’s like a chance to finally let go and admit, that it’s really not okay. That your not okay, and for the others around you to see how hard you’ve been struggling. Internally. Day after day. Feeling like your going fucking insane because you don’t even know what okay is anymore.