The Writer's Library.

Talking's hard so I write it down. My chest hurts as if it's collapsing in, Or maybe exploding out. Have you left yet dear, Or are you on your way? Or do I just have the wrong day? I've been off all week. My depression's bleak. How will I feel once it's all over. Will it be over? Will it ever be done? How will I know when the war's been won? I miss the days when it was simply complicated. I hate how now I had to hurt people, But mostly myself. Am I doing what makes me happy? I don't know. The same answer you give when I ask you if you love me. That really hurt, I think you know. But at least I know it wasn't a lie. But "I don't know" can turn into "no". Time passes on, Bringing me closer to a final day, I hope. Forgive me if I leave it all behind. Maybe you won't be hurt, But you said you'd at least remember me. Everyone tells me that I've helped them somehow. Somehow I've given the...

I go to sleep at night,  I still don’t know how to face myself, This mess of a body, Hoping I won’t live to see the morning.  I go to sleep at night, I take all the pills I want, I drink until the bottle slips my hand, Hoping I won’t live to see the morning. I go to sleep at night, With chest pains, A migraine, And a broken heart, Hoping I won’t live to see the morning.

Are you tired yet? Are you tired of fighting me? I'm tired. I've been so tired for so long. I've been waiting for you to give up. I want to curl up on the floor. I want to sleep, but you haven't let me sleep. I'm going mad, even now.  Three days without sleep. Three weeks, three months.  "Time will go by, and he will forget." Time went by, and he has not forgotten, not in the least. He remembers more and more each day and each night. I just want to die, so it would be over already. Why do you do this to me? What is so special about me that you haven't given up yet? God, give up on me.