Today I realized this:
I sit and stare for hours at the wall. I don’t know why so don’t ask. But I do that. It helps me to pass time. When I'm bored I will sit and stare. It helps me think. Think about everything, everything that's wrong in my fucking life, everything that’s good (not many things) and compare 'em. Then I cry because I realize that my life is just not worth living.
Yet I go on living it. For what purpose I do not know. Yet it feels as an obligation for me to live even though I hate it. I want my life to stop going on, for someone to come and end my life, to take it away from me. I have no purpose for being alive. So why am I alive?
Because my parents fucked up and brought me into the world. They say they want me....and maybe they do just doesn’t seem like it. They rarely show affection for me.
Very little affection at all. Someone take me away from this place. Take away my life and the bitterness that I have felt. Either bring me happiness or just give me death. My life is no longer worth living. I'm lonely, I'm sad, I'm depressed. The wall has become my only friend.