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.