I cant say I'd die for you, because I do that every day. What I do for you is far greater, more challenging and terrifying and hard. I live for you. And you dont understand that.
I dont just have bad mood swings or depression occasionally or every few days or weeks, there is not one minute (not even one) that I actually want to continue living and dont dream about the end. I cant tell the damn therapists about the drugs and the self mutilation that I crave to survive or the drunken fights with my friends or the nightmarish memory of my boyfriend trying to rape me, or the horrible, morbid thoughts that feed on my mind or my millions of suicide and runaway plans. I cant tell them this shit because then its not confidential anymore, I can get into trouble or who knows what else. Hospatalized. Pitied. Looked at. Talked about. Put on suicide watch. How do they expect me to be able to tell them the truth? This is my life on the line here, I have to pretend like everythings getting better for there sake.
Cant they see that there is no moving on or growing up. They are the world to me. I cant make them see that, I cant no matter how much I try to explain...they have to be in here with me to feel what I mean. As sad as that it is...its the truth. I dont care about fucking anything else. And even if I was imagining all the hate and disgust I see daily as I slouch down the halls at school does that make it any less real? NO. Its reality to me you fuckheads. Stop trying to tell me it doesnt matter and that its just in my head. "To get over it." MY FUCKING HEAD IS WHAT I FUCKING HAVE TO LIVE WITH.
I can never excape from it like you lucky bastards can...I live in it.
Fuck it...you'll never understand.