i wrote this today, its called Unkown. i guess its a poem...

I don't want to die. Not really. But every night I pray I don't wake up and every morning, before I open my eyes, I realise sleep was pointless. 

I don't want to die. Not really. I just wish to cease to exist. To float around in the abyss of nothing.

I don't want to die. Not really. I'm just tired of being tired. I have been so tired. I was born tired. What do I need?

I don't want to die. Not really. I just don't know my real personality. All I know is this false identity I have masked over many others. The many faces I give to the people I meet each day.

Not even to myself can I admit any of this. Not how tired I am, how unhungry I am, how I lack desire. 

Do I want to die? Perhaps. 

Will I end my life with my own hands? Unlikely.

So what's the point? Unknown.