So, I suppose it's important to note that I've been talking about death quite a bit lately. By talking I suppose I mean thinking. Today on my way to school I thought about the end. I wanted it so bad..... but I had obligations to fufill. Always the slave to duty... like pirates of penzance.
Anyway I had set a date. A date for the most important day of my life, or second most, depending on how that matters to you. I want... wanted... I don't know, but I desired an end date. So I wouldn't have to think about the future. I hate the future. So much. If it had been up to me I'd be writing the note for when I reach that date. Because editing it would be really relaxing, knowing the date was coming.
The problem... is that the people who want me here aren't enough. They can never be enough to stop the pain.
there was supposed to be much more. In short I tried to explain to dad why I wanted to die because I wanted him to come to terms with it, and that flopped.
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