No one is here for me. It would be best if I just ran away. And left everything behind.
I'm just sick of living this way, but too scared of dying.
I can't focus. I'm tired all the time, but I can't sleep. I always end up lying in bed, with tears streaming from my face to my pillow. And I'm not even that sad about anything. I just cry.
Something actually changed. Before, I felt nothing - but now; I'm in pain.
My hollow soul is filled with pain and guilt. Because I'm guilty of making myself feel this way.
I tell myself that I'm not good enough. Pretty enough. Skinny enough.
And I believe it.
It feels as though I'm drifting further and further away from shore.
And I'm falling apart. Control is slipping through my fingers.
Dying for someone to notice my absent eyes, fake smiles and lifeless laughter.
Just say my name. Just talk to me. Just note that I'm not okay.
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