you set more work for me to do, but you don't know my problems; panic attack, depression, cutting, suicidal thoughts, the throught of failer on a daily bases. you think I'm ok, but you'll never know the truth. I secretly have breakdowns and no one ever notices, I have had so many infront of you, but I smile and you don't ask any questions. my heart pumps so fast I struggle to breathe. I write this in maths, a lie some may say, but little do they know this is what I feel everyday and now i don't care, some will call me heartless, well if that the case then I am dead. the dreams in my head are real, but I can't be dead, because I am not happy and I still feel the same pain. If I am dead then where is the fiery depths of hell?