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Walking down a dark gray boring sidewalk.
Thinking, why do i continue my live in a world if I’m unhappy?
Hearing idiots talking among themselves about far less important issues.
Crying on the inside from the pain life has caused me.
Dying is something I long for, hoping and wishing it will soon come.
Hoping that this hell I call my life will get better.
I’m screaming on the inside because it won’t come into words.
Living is something I want to do. Living my life not caring what is said about me. Living and not Dying.
Wishing that someday someone will come and take me away. I’m wishing for a fairytale.
I feel like I’m falling and can’t get up. Falling as if I have been trapped.
Sinking as if quicksand has got me and is trying to suffocate me. Which leads me back to…
Dying isn’t something I want anymore. I don’t want to be afraid anymore and I don’t care to die.
Seeing is something I want to do. I want to see life and not hide from it.
Hiding is for cowards which is something I am not. Hiding in fear is no longer me.
Conquering life is what I want to do, for I don’t want to be afraid to be free and live it.