fuck

September, Suicide Prevention Month. 

I really hope that all the fucking depressed people who are reading this aren't depressed enough to do it. 

My boyfriend wrote to me particulary for this month and many questions went through my head. 

'Why him?' 'Why me?'

I asked myself if he would really belive that I am so depressed as to be able to do something like that, and I realized that really I am. I understood that I'm so fucked up that I'm really able to try to end it all over again, just for a little moment. 

I want to die. I really want to die. I've thought about it a lot and every time I think about it again I only find a constant of suffering in my fucking life. Every day i just have the stong thought that I don't deserve a life. 

i really need a god damn cigarrette, but I promised never do it again. 

do it again, do it again and do it again. 

There is so much that I still want to live, but that I do not have the balls to do so. 

I want to get married one day. I want to have a son and give him my last name. I want to have a fucking family. I want to be a famous guitarist or bass player, the kind of rockstar that girls have a poster in their romm or they make a fanpage for them with edits and songs in the background. 

Why am I so fucking depressed?

 I don't know. I've never known. 

I just have to accept that happiness doesn't exist for people like me.

Dreams are a waste of time for people like me.