Sick...
A week of holiday and I'm in Toulouse again. It's harder than before, I can't help to feel bad about what I do here. I know I do it for me but, maybe I'm just wasting my time, maybe I won't do anything with my life, I don't know.
I'm sick and my belly hurts. They give me pills to take but... when it hurts, it prevents me from thinking bad things. If I could die now, without pain, and being sure it's the end, I would do it right now. Sometimes, my friends, my family and even music are not enough to make me think that life is something good.
I need to talk but I'm afraid of what I could say. Afraid of what people could think. Because I feel as if no one really knows me. Things that I hide from my best friends, only one or two close friends on the internet knows that. And them, they don't know the little things in my life which make me be what I am. I don't know if all of this makes sense.
I feel so alone here, crying for nothing. I hate this.
I'm sick and my belly hurts. They give me pills to take but... when it hurts, it prevents me from thinking bad things. If I could die now, without pain, and being sure it's the end, I would do it right now. Sometimes, my friends, my family and even music are not enough to make me think that life is something good.
I need to talk but I'm afraid of what I could say. Afraid of what people could think. Because I feel as if no one really knows me. Things that I hide from my best friends, only one or two close friends on the internet knows that. And them, they don't know the little things in my life which make me be what I am. I don't know if all of this makes sense.
I feel so alone here, crying for nothing. I hate this.