I can't sleep.

I can't eat.

I wish I couldn't think. But I can think. Thinking isn't good for the soul. It really isn't.

I know I'm not good enough. That just goes without question. Not smart enough, not tall enough, not pretty enough, and especially not good enough. My sister is always upset. My brother is constantly crying. They need me. They need me to make it better, but I can't. I try so hard, but I can't. I can't do school, I can't clean, I can't act, I can't work, I can't take care of them all. But I can fake it. I can sure as hell fake being happy. I can fake it all if I need to. But it's not good enough. I'm not good enough.

If I said this out loud I'd be called a drama queen. I'm called a drama queen for having average fucking emotions so of course I'll be called a drama queen if I let my feelings out any further than when I try to be normal. I'm not good enough when I try to be normal, so how the hell can I be good enough when I am me?

Maybe if I write this down someone will find it. Someone will find it and help. Someone will help me. Please help. I don't know what to do any more and I'm scared. But I'm just overreacting, aren't I?

I feel like I'm dying. Really. I feel like my soul is a literal black hole and I'm turning into some sort of scientific anomaly. When I stop to think for a moment I can focus on the parts of me that are shriveling up. They're shriveling up inside of me and turning inside out, sucking everything along with. Maybe I am a drama queen. I'm just making this up for attention. I need the attention 's all. I'm not really dying. Maybe the bad thoughts are a little bit of indigestion. Maybe I can burp my depression away. But then again, it's not really depression because I'm just overreacting.

That's what I am. That's what I've always done. I've always been the one to overreact. I've always been the one to cry at movies, been the one to get upset over spilled milk, been the one to fall in love so easily, been the one who's quick to trust others. I'm a drama queen. There's nothing wrong with me because I'm fucking overreacting. The voices in my head are just me. I'm just the one who thinks that telling myself I'm worthless will give me an excuse to not clean my room or something of the sort. The one telling that voice to stop is really me telling myself to get off my lazy ass and stop giving myself excuses. Stop it. Just STOP. Stop. Stop being a drama queen. Stop overacting. Stop being lazy. Stop stopping. Stop not being good enough. Stop everything. Stop wishing everything would just stop, that it could just stop.

If it could stop, just stop for a moment, I could breathe. I would inhale and unclench my fingers, release my hair. I would tell myself that it's going to be okay. I would love myself. I would calm. If it would just stop. I would fade into an oblivion of sunshine and lollipops. I would float on a rainbow recently puked by a sparkly unicorn. But it won't stop. It can't stop. I don't even know what stop means.

I'm just overreacting. I'm just overreacting. I'm just over dramatizing everything. I can't stop. I have to help my sister be happy, I have to help my brother stop crying. I have to get all A's. I have to mow the lawn. I have to memorize my lines. Most of all I have to put on a face. Because the world can't know I'm overreacting. The world can't know I force myself to eat because it's the time of day I should. The world can't know that the reason I'm always sleeping is because I want to fade. The world can't know I'm not really sleeping. The world can't know I'm fading.

I'm not fading. I'm just... Stopping.

And I have to do something about it.