Friday, May 22, 2009


I ask my self this question almost everyday.

Why am I alive?
Why did I wake up today?
Why do things seem so useless?
Why do I feel worthless?
Why do I hate my face?
Why do I hate my ears?
Why do I hate my hands?
Why do I hate everything about my self?
Why am I going to university when I don't even have the desire to get out of bed?
Why do the things I used to love doing now provide me with no emotional sastifaction?
Why am I depressed?
Why do I contenplate suicide on a daily basis, and frequently throughout the day?
Why do other people seem so happy?
Why do others take happiness in things I can not?
Why do I picture my body hanging, cold and dead, from a rope?
Why does the pain seem infinite?
Why is there no light at the end of this tunnel?
Why does death seem like the only way for this to end?
Why do I feel unhappy living a life that others wouldn't?
Why do materalistic goods not provide me with happiness?
Why does everyone and everything annoy me so much?
Why do I want to cut my self?
Why do I have to randomly pull my car over and cry?
Why do I feel anger that can only seemed to be expressed through physical violence?
Why am I constantly reminded of my painful past?
Why can't I get over things in the past?
Why do the memories that drag me down resurface everyday?
Why do I hate my life so much?
Why do I hate who I am so much?
Why do I feel so alone, so alienated?
Why do I choose to continue living?
Why am I different?
Why couldn't I just have been normal?
Why is the thought of my death comforting?
Why me

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