princessdepression
justlikeyou
- Dec 2, 2021
- 27
Just because I live doesn't mean I'm worthy of it. I could say, and many others could say I'm hypocritical. Because I don't believe one bit of this sentiment above when it applies to others, but to me it is a personal belief if mine. Towards only me. My heart gives out from small pains of life each day, and when I say small I mean microscopic in the big bucket my sister has always told me is left of the rest of my life. So what makes me so special to feel this way? Like life isn't worth living? Well that's exactly it, I'm disgusting to think this and that alone is enough to make me not worth this life. I've pondered these needles in my veins, my brain and my fingers unscathed, the blessing of it all, and my lack of gratitude. I'm not worthy because I don't care about this building of gratitude and instead care more about falling off A building and dying. Don't get me wrong, this is a new no remorse thinking for me, I tried for so long to convince myself I'm grateful for this life. That I deserve this, but for many reasons I think what is the "this" I'm deserving of? This life is so horrid, so intensely fragmented and suffocating. For me. For the unscathed even, and yet STILL I can't quell this pain. Death is the end and the beginning