It's hard to get out of bed in the morning when I know that the only thing I'll feel is pain. It's hard to put a smile on my face when I feel dead inside.
It's hard not to bleed.
It's.. so hard not to give up... to just fade away.
It's so hard to write in this diary, because I don't think anyone reads it.
( do you read this... do you? does anyone? )
It's so hard.. so hard not to accept my fate, and lay down and give up.
What is the purpose of staying if I have no purpose for being?
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.