Signed: xoxo, MESSIE…

Dear World,

They say that living is the easiest part, but for what it’s worth, I disagree. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to hurt this much. Or be this hard. I thought I knew what I was living for…and now…honestly, I’m just not so sure.

I don’t want to cry these tears. Or feel this pain. I don’t want these memories. Or the dreams that keep me awake. I just want to make it all go away. I’m tried of waiting for someday. Of being told that it’ll all be okay. Because it won’t. And it’s not. And I’M not. I don’t care what they say. I’m NOT okay…

I don’t want to be strong, or put on a brave face just because it’s what everyone expects me to do. Not when everything is frayed at the seams–and my whole world is falling apart. I don’t want to stand here and smile and not say anything. What I want–what I really want–is to scream. Until it’s gone, they’re gone…and everything else just fades away.

I don’t care if I have “so much more left to say”. Or more of the world left to see. What’s the use in writing and saying pretty words, or seeing everything–when I don’t want this–when it means nothing to me? When just breathing isn’t the rush that it used to be…and when “just living” is no longer enough for me. What’s the point in all of it–when you’re numb and can’t feel anything?

So is it wrong to say that I don’t want this anymore? Am I weak if I say that I don’t want to be strong? Is it selfish of me to not want to be here…to say goodbye…to be free from everything? Maybe it’s wrong. Maybe it’s a sin. Maybe it’s me. But I don’t want this. I don’t want to be fixed or helped or held. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want any of it, or anything. It’s not dying that scares me. It’s the thought of living…like this…that terrifies me. More than anything.

So tonight…please world…let me go and leave me be.


“…And every little bit of her wants to see the light. But every single night another little bit of her dies inside. She’s trapped in her mind. She feels more alive in her own dreams. And she’s wondering, what’s beyond the sky? Could she see the light if she just falls asleep? So tonight, she lies. Lifted up through her own roof. Dried eyes tonight. There’s nothing more that she could do. And they cry tonight. For the daughter that they hardly knew. And she’s lost in time. Another empty bottle takes her life…” –KATY MCALLISTER’s “ANOTHER BOTTLE TAKES A LIFE”–


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