i am sitting in my underwear at the kitchen table in my halifax apartment.
uhhhh.

i think im getting depressed again. only difference from before is i am surrounded by my friends constantly instead of alone. so i really dont get to sulk or think about it too much.
but when i am home alone as i am now, and i do think about it. i think about it like hell.
i think about it so i cry and it hurts and i want to die. i think about it until my body hurts and i hate myself so bloody much i start to call myself names. i think about it until i question over and over again jumping from my 11th floor balcony. i question what i would wear and what last note i would leave.. i question who would care, who would be hurt the most and if anyone would have a nice word to say about me. im a negitive self loathing ignorant child. so no.. those who know me wont have a lot to say. those who dont know me will have nothing better.. i never made any effort to become anyones friend in my life. i never made any effort to be social, overcome my anxiety, my awkwardness. i always understood id die alone and if i was lucky have a funeral.

im just to here to fill dead space.