I didn't mean it...


I didn't mean it, I swear!! I don't really want to kill anyone. Not even myself. I don't want to die.

I do want to disappear. That'd be nice. But not forever or anything.

I wish God could forgive me. I wish he would help me figure out what to do with myself. Obviously I'm doing something wrong.

Maybe this life is my punishment for being bisexual. Having a girlfriend has caused basically every single problem in my life.

I don't regret my breakup with my boyfriend, and never in a trillion years would I regret admitting that I was in love with... let's call her Luna, for security's sake. Luna's amazing. I love her so much.

Why am I being punished for finding happiness in this beautiful person?

I haven't said this seriously in probably seven years, but...
It's not fair.

It just isn't fair.

I'm glad I put down the blade and picked up the pencil. I'm glad that at least I'm shedding tears and not blood. My loud moaning and choking on my own uncontrollable sobs is in less physical pain and in mostly just emotional pain, that of which I haven't taken out on myself. This I'm happy for.

What did I say to get to this point?

The power of one text conversation I failed to delete...

"I actually want to kill my mother."


Henrico, VA