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I thought I was just sad for the longest time but I cried and expressed it a couple of times and all I felt was even emptier and angrier at myself, its just amorphous misery that fills me ...

I have this rage in me , it grumbles and smolders underneath. It flares every time anyone including myself I might be better than vermin. ...

I have a horrible impatience in my heart. Have you ever felt it ? That building annoyance at everyone because you have to wait for them to finish there multiple sentence tirade about points of miniscule importance, I get your point , I get mine. Why argue though ? I am perfectly fine holding both thoughts like perfect spherical bubbles in the wind, fragile and finite whats the point of smashing them against each other barbarically. Why must we argue ? ...

The thought of suicide is like the reassurring hand of an adult holding my hand in the darkness. The safety and security in the face that even when all is lost and gone I shall always have one thing to count on. One action that is a constant possibility in the darkest moments of my life. I try so hard not to think of it but the thought is too pleasurable, too enticing to not spend hours fantasizing away. I fear I'm too far gone or has such defeatist thinking made me defeated. The lack of feet in...