I’m almost 16 but I’m already done with life. I live somewhere I hate so much I can’t even describe it. I didn’t accomplish anything in my entire life. I want to move away but so many things are holding me back. There is no place to stay for me. My Dad won’t move away because he’s old and he doesn’t want to move. I can’t stay here anymore. I just can’t. I don’t feel like I have friends. God I wish I was dead. Never born. One more year in this house and I’ll kill myself. I can’t take the pain anymore. My parents don’t understand my pain. They don’t understand how much this pain is for me. Can I just die? Please?
That’s the thing about pain, it demands to be felt. I’m not going to say something like “but you so much to live for” because nobody wants to hear that. Instead, I’m not going to say anything, except recommend listening to twenty øne piløts music. Not stressed out, and heathens, and the ones you hear on the radio, but the ones that haven’t been noticed, the ones with true meaning, the ones that kept me alive through the horrible pain that people call life.
Years from now you’ll look back. You’ll look back and you’ll be glad you didn’t end your life. Trust me. Hang in there buddy, be strong for your Dad. It happens to the best of us.