I’m done.

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I’m not okay in the slightest and that fucking hurts. I have tried so many fucking times to tell you I want help, my head hates me, that whatever is going on isn’t normal and you just fire back with how ungrateful I am.

I tried to tell you my concerns about moving during my exams, or the fact I think I have adhd and it’s effecting me, but you just scream and tell me how bad I am as your child, how I’m cruel and don’t understand what I’ve been given.

I hate what has happened to me, and I hate the fact I still justify your actions as a mother. I have so many regrets and most of them are still being here, not taking that chance when I was alone to just get it over and done with because I am tired. So, fucking, tired.

I’m not selfish but everytime you hear someone has killed themselves it’s “Oh their poor family and friends how could they?” They were exhausted, tired of fighting for this shit that isn’t even worth it. So am I.

When is it my turn to finally put down the pen and admit I’m done so I can go? I don’t want to learn to drive anymore, or plan my university experience. I want to die.

I won’t apologise for that.





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