If we told someone how we actually felt and what we actually thought, I wonder how many of us would still be aloud to walk the streets as free people?
Standing in front of a mirror, staring at yourself trying not to break down and cry because only you know how sad you really are on the inside.
I never thought that one person could cause someone so much pain and suffering that they would rather die than continue living.
It’s too early in the fucking morning to be this fucking depressed all over again today.
The will to die is greater than the will to live.
It’s sad that when I look at pictures of myself from the past year or so I classify them between when I was depressed or when I was happy.
And the saddest part is that in most of them I’m depressed as fuck even though I’m smiling.
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