I Wish Things Didn’t Make Me Want to Kill Myself

Seriously.

I hate being suicidal.

I hate being insecure.

I hate being fucking depressed.

I hate being negative about everything.

I hate being unable to tell anyone anything.

I hate having to act the same damn part 24/7.

I hate circling 1’s for all the mental illness symptoms on all my physical examinations when the honest answer is probably a 10.

I hate never trusting anyone or anything enough to talk about anything even remotely close to my heart to them, least of all myself.

I hate hating people, humans who have many good qualities but in whom I can only see the bad, but most of all myself.

I hate my many little social oversights resulting in such a damn big public relations debacle.

I hate being the kid who has the perfect life until you find out it all isn’t so perfect.

I hate being Madness Behind the Beauty.

I hate being stuck in this situation.

I hate being so hated.

I hate being me.

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