I want to kill myself. Not like the drawn out, par-suicide (suicide for attention)... I just, want to let go. I've gotten myself so wrapped up in all this pain and this entire fucking world, that I want it to go away, and never come back. I want to curl up and die. Just... slitting my wrists is too easy... You can survive that... Hanging is dramatic...But, mostly? I don't care if my physical body dies, but my spirit? That died a long time a go... Now, I want to sever everything, every emotion, and every cell, every last bit that connects me to this world... But I am so scared. I want to die, but yet... I don't want to kill myself. I lay awake at night, praying to God that he would just kill me... and save me the trouble... I just silently scream for him to get rid of me, let my tears become my blood, let it run so free. Why hasn't he killed me? I really, truly don't know. I used to think, when I got over depression, that I was meant to do something. But now... I'm really not, am I? Everyone says, friends solve everything. No, they truly don't. They really help you... I have a friend... Who always smiles and it takes a hell of a lot to get him down, you couldn't get him down with weights. I wish I could be him. I've envied him forever. I tried to steal that happiness, I tried to hate it, I tried to make it, and now I'm trying to fake it. I know gay guys, lesbians, evil people, and good people. They're ALL happy. The evil, happy in their evildoing. The good are happy because they're good, and the homosexuals happy in love. I hate them for it, I envy them for it and I love them for it. That's just how they are. But why can't that just be how I am?!?! What did I do?! Why do I not deserve joy?! Oh dear God, strike me down.