143a


The girl of my dreams. She pops up frequently in my brain and begs me to tell her story. I usually quiet her down, but she came back today, roaring. It made me want to at least write the script, as I’ll likely never draw a full comic. But maybe I could find an artist and my dream girl can breathe and live, as sadly, twisted and broken as she can.

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Playing.

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I wrote a suicide note last night. Posted it on Facebook and then deleted it. I’m probably not going to kill myself, but everyday, I think about it. I’m in a very bad place. I’m trying to seek help. It’s hard, though.

I debated whether I should repost it here. It’s dark, and painful. But the feelings in it are real. It’s what I am going through, and I spend so much time hiding it, it was in a way, cathartic to write.

As I said, I am going to seek help. I am going to get through this.
***
I’m the worst human being alive, but I try so hard not to be. I don’t want to be the worst human being alive, but it just slips out sometimes and I don’t even realize. I want to fix it. I want to be better than this, but I don’t know how, and I don’t know what to do. I ruin everything around me and ruin the people around me in the process, swallowing them up in the undertow of my awfulness. Time and again, there’s only one solution I can think of to stop it from happening. Every single day I think of it. I hate this. I hate everything about me. How long do I need to struggle to keep pretending that I can be better? History repeats itself and I prove over and over again that I just can’t. I’m just so tired of everything, and I just want to stop.