While I’m on the train earlier going home from school a thought suddenly pop up from my mind:

1. I don’t think I’m depressed. No I’m not.
I am not the kind of teenager who thinks she’s fucking depressed just because she thinks its cool.
No, I’m not that kind of girl.

2. Maybe I am just sad.
I am just pitying myself.

I hate myself.
Yes I do. So fucking much.
I think nobody or  no one can lift me up.
Even I can’t lift me up.

I don’t know where this is going. I am just writing what’s on my mind now.

I’m Sorry. I just wan’t to let it all out.

Those killing myself, killing me, suicide plan on my notebook.
The pills, ropes, blades, drowning.
The sad poem and letters. drawings and sketches.
The sleepless nights.
The thoughts of being not good enough.
Being the major disappointment in the family.
For being the unwanted one.
I’m this useless daughter that no one wants to have.
The kind of person/girl that you can easily forget, can easily replace.
Crying in the middle of the night for no apparent reason.
For being tired. Physically and Emotionally.

I’m sorry for being existed in this fucking world full of chaos and toxicness.


A F R A I D . [070817]

I’m afraid.
I’m afraid to sleep again.
To close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
Afraid that the bad dreams will come back.
To hunt me.
To hurt me.
To torture me.
I’m screaming in my dream.
I’m running towards nowhere.
Running from someone.
Running from death.
Panting, hiding, exhausted.
To the woman figure with no face.
She’s wearing a clothes, Victorian era used to wear.
A knife in hand.
She’s running after me.
I was crying.
Hiding trough closed door.
. . . . .
Then I woke up
to the sun shining brightly outside.
I know it by then,
Not a good day to start.

Early in the morning.

*23rd of May 2017, 7:09 a.m*

Skin tight.
Neck prickle.
Tingling sensation.
Eyes hurting. Crying.
Unable to keep up.
Down. Down. Down.
Curling up in bed. Balled fist.
Anxiety attack. Depression.
Not a good combination.
Help. I need help.
I'm Drowning. Suffocating.
Morning. Crying.
Hiding under the sheets.
I don't want to go out.
I can't go to school.
They'll hate me. They will judge me. 
I can't control it.