So This Sucks...
I guess I'm here writing this because no one is around to talk to me right now, and I'm typically a really hard person to talk to. So. I guess I'm here to type a bunch of stuff about this topic.
Said topic is 'I think about Suicide'. I do. I use to do it because, well, my life has always been kind of ******. This is not to say I think my life is a tourment worse than death, but its been ****** for a while. I've had my share of laughs and smiles, but I don't understand a lot of things. Normal kids my age (Sixteen, folks, I'm sixteen) can go about their daily lives with little to no worry. They have problems with their boyfiends or girlfriends, they flunk a test, their phone gets shut off. Things like that. So... Why can't my problems be like that?
My problems aren't huge and I don't know where half of them are coming from. But I know I'm sinking. Things are losing color and meaning and I'm not even interested anymore. I don't know who to turn to anymore. I don't want to worry my mother. I know thats why she's here, to care about me, but I can't bare to be such a burden. She doesn' t know half of my problems and they already stress her out. My friends have their own lives to live, right? So... Who do I talk to? I'm everyones shoulder to cry on, but when the lights go out at the end of the night, I'm the only one whos left, crying myself to sleep.
I imagine, if this gets comments, it'll be people telling me it gets easier when I get older, and that its just a phase all teens go through. But its not a phase and it hasn't got better. I've been like this for as long as I can remember, honestly. Batteling with myself to stay happy, smiling so no one worries. And now no one even cares, or so it seems. I want them to care, but at the same time I don't want them to worry about me.
I keep getting myself caught up in things to try and stay distracted. But. This is what happens when I run out of things to distract me with. When sleep won't come and I can't bare to stay awake. Pain, happiness, sorrow, anguish, laughter, tears, love, hate. These things come from life. From breathing. From being human.
I don't think I want that anymore. I don't want to be human. I want to be a cloud, flying high above all else, with the sun always at my back and the wind always taking me somewhere new. I want to be at the bottom of the ocean, where there is no light or sound. I want the silent current to pick me up and twirl me around, 'till I don't know which way is up and the bubbles stop floating around. I don't want to die. I want to live life, and I want to be happy. But I can't take this strain; This hurt; This depression.
I want the pitch-black, numb nothingness that death seems to bring. I think abut suicide...