I don’t really know what to do anymore. The only thing keeping me from killing myself is the small hope that maybe someday things will get better. Some nights I pray to a god I don’t even believe in that I’ll die in my sleep or something. Nobody don’t care until you’re gone. My mom knows that my mental health has been bad but she doesn’t care. She puts so much extra stress on me. She doesn’t understand how much effort it takes me to even get out of bed every morning. She calls me lazy and selfish. I don’t have any friends. My sister hates me. I don’t have a reason to live.