I just locked myself in my bedroom with the full intention of giving up. I was laying there thinking really dark things, I mean really contemplating things, ya know? I think in a sense it’s hopelessness, though maybe not really because there is some sort of hope at the end of this very long, very dark tunnel. I think the biggest thing is loneliness. I feel very truly alone in all of this.
I laid there with the full intention of just letting the night come in from outside and fill me up and take me away. I started thinking about sharp things, because that’s where my mind goes when I try to reach out to people and they don’t respond. No matter what I do it isn’t good enough. Crying for help is useless, shouting makes things even worse, silence receives nothing.
What do I have to do or say to get someone to care? Or maybe that’s the trouble. No one cares about me at all.
Rant rant rant. I keep telling myself to use this feeling for something. So here we are. I wrote about it, it’s used, and now here you are. Reading these words, of me at the end of my rope.