I'm suicidal lately.
I don't know why.
At least that's what I tell myself.
I know exactly why I don't want to live.
There are a plethora of reasons for me not to want to live.
All I ever do is screw things up.
I keep thinking I'll be able to fix this somehow.
I don't have a conscience.
It really ******** up my days.
Everyone else I know seems to have one.
It makes communication exceedingly difficult.
I've thought a lot about how I'd want to kill myself.
I always wanted to do it in some sort of new and exciting way.
However as the days go by these thoughts become less and less important.
I cannot think of a way that pleases me.
Not only does life make me unhappy, but my suicide isn't going work either.
It seems I can never be truly happy.
There's always going to be something ******** everything up.
Maybe it's just me and I pay too much attention to detail.
Maybe everyone else just can't understand my thought process.
Maybe this is all a cry for help.
Or maybe I'm just like every other sociopath out there.
Convinced of my own bullshit, and everyone else is to blame.
That does sound like me.
Nevertheless I still hunger.
I still want.
I always get the things I want.
It's only a matter of time.
So it seems I've always known the way I was going to die.
That stupid maze game might have been right.
Did it affect my choice, or was I always going to commit suicide.
Just because I don't want my life to be summed up to a game I might not do it.
Then again who really gives a s**t?
I obviously don't.
My mother tells me she cares, but I can't bring myself to care for her.
I can't bring myself to care for myself lately.
Laugh and the world laughs with you.
Yet it seems like I'm the only one laughing.
Weep and you weep alone.
She's crying at the harshness of truth.
I'm a horrible son.
Truth is I'm a horrible person.
Even though I'm no better than a beast don't I have the right to live?
Not that I want to.
Even in my darkness there seems to be two light sources.
Maybe because I'm negative.
Maybe because I'm antisocial.
Maybe because I know the truth of my nature.
Maybe because I doubt them.
Maybe because I doubt myself.
I don't want to get close to them.
It's the simple fact that I know I'm going to leave them.
It's either I'll leave them forever or they'll leave me.
And then if I decide upon my goal, they'll blame themselves.
Of course I'd be dead so who knows how I'd feel about that.