Why is it me?
Why must I suffer?
Do I not deserve to be happy, to live a normal life?
Why can't I leave?
Why do you get mad at me every time I say I want to leave this place?
I don't want to leave.
Not home.
Not this state.
What I do want to leave,
Is my life.
If you wanted me to stay you would've fought for me.
You wouldn't have let me go.
But you did, and now I'm gone.
You said things, did things, and you left me.
Without a fight.
I can't get up.
I cannot feel my own breath.
I hurt myself today.
To see if I still feel.
I don't.
I'm incapable.
It makes me mad.
I want to know, why you don't care.
Why you blew me off when I tried to talk.
I thought you....
I thought I knew you.
It makes me cry.
I know I'm not good enough.
Am I?
I know I'm not.
You couldn't even care less to try to tell me I am.
It makes me mad.
I need help.
I know I do.
I thought you could see that.
But you didn't.
And now I'm suffering.
But I'm not suffering, because I can't feel, remember?
So don't help me.
Don't take a second look at the hollow girl you pass on the street.
Don't pause to take a second glance when you see the pale girl standing on the edge of a bridge, looking at the rushing water below.
Oh wait.
You don't.
None of you do.
I've learned. No one is going to help me.
I'm six feet from the edge.
I'm thinking.
Maybe six feet ain't so far down.
Why did you go.
Right when I needed you.
You left.
That makes me cry.
