how much?

 Do you know how much to take, 

to make all this end? 

Do you know what to take, 

for our body to bend?

To bend and break and cry and scream, 

yet outside everything's fine it seems. 

I know the dosis, 

i know what to take, 

but here i am surviving, 

for somebody elses sake. 

why am i alive, 

why do i keep breathing, 

when im full of pain, 

and my soul is leaving. 

I should apologize for being myself

 I should apologize for being myself, 

for the way my voice sounds, my arms flail around, 

the way my humor will always insult someone. 

I should apologize for being myself, 

my sick, depressed self, that doesnt offer anything, 

yet takes and takes and takes. 

Why are people friends with me? I seem to just be a burden. 

Maybe they feel good about helping a person. 

I suppose that might be reason. Stupid reason. 

please end this

i hate being alive

 i hate being alive, 
why do I have to wake up every day. 
I keep begging to god, 
but he doesn't listen to what I say. 

I wake up upset at life,
I go to sleep upset at death.
"please let me fucking die", 
I keep asking with every breath. 

But life goes on, 
another day, another mess. 
Why do I keep going, 
who am I trying to impress. 

Trying to prove something to someone, 
trying to show that there is hope. 
When drugs, alcohol and sleep, 
is the only way that I can cope. 

Hello, Goodbye, Fuck off, I say. 

I go to sleep to escape my day. 

Fuck

Maybe?

Maybe if I punch enough walls, 
and take enough of those pills. 

My crooked smile will return, 

because this depression, it kills, 

every shred of happiness in my soul, 

every shred of hope within this wreck, 

that I call my body, isn't it funny? 

Outside it is always so sunny, 

but my mind is clouded in darkness, 

a never ending ocean full of sad, 

a bottom less puddle on the sidewalk.

when it could be nothingness instead. 

Sometimes I wish I couldn't feel a thing, 

but this Apathy is worse than any sadness, 

Atleast I can feel anything. 

however terrible it might be,

whatever it might bring. 

Because I cannot even begin, 

to describe the selfhatred I feel when I look, 

just look at my future, or my life. 

Being alive stings like a knife, 

down im my stomach, 

I'd rather be dead, 

than feel this nothingness. 

And yet when the curtain lifts, 

the only thing that comes through is hate. 

Sometimes I think that it might be to late, 

to late to save the child that couldn't wait, 

to grow up, and now has too much on its plate. 

"forgetting"

 Just take your meds they say, 

then the pain will go away. 

But I know I deserve this pain, 

this selfhatred that is driving me insane. 

It is all I know and all I have, 

there is just nothing else left. 

Another day, another night passes by. 

I know I forgot the drugs, I sigh, 

I know I should take them I know they'll help, 

"but why would you do this", the voice yelps. 

"You know that you deserve this, 

you know that you are total shit, 

worthless, broken and a waste of air. 

It is not like anyone will care. "

So the sadness comes back, 

my hands start shaking again. 

Barely leaving my bed, 

Im just as useless as they said.

"Here's the proof" the voice says, 

"You're as useless, as you remember", 

a bit louder this time, just like

it is losing its temper. 

And there I fall again, 

back into the darkness embrace'

because thats what I deserve, 

I guess I am a hopeless case. 

What if my excuse of depression doesn't count one day?

 What if my excuse of depression doesn't count one day? 
My perceived sadness and exhaustion doesn't get a say, 
I get called out for my laziness and that I am actually okay. 

What if all this is just a big ass show, 

and in reality i am just slow. 

I guess you reap what you sow. 

What if I really just hurt myself for attention, 

what if all my scars are just another extension, 

of my self love and my narcissm dimension? 

What if my attempt to end this fuckin life, 

was just another way to experience the knife, 

and the thrill of being alive. 

What if I am really just useless. 

22

You're only 22 they say. You can't be tired of life. 

You have got your whole life ahead of you. 

But I also have my whole life behind me. 

22 years that ended in this. A sad piece of shit that can't get their shit together for even one day. Finds media and immediatly consumes it. No measurement needed, lets just gulp it all down. Why would we sleep anyways? Sleep is for the weak. 

But sleep used to be our sanctuary. "It's like being dead without the commitment", thats what I said. 

The real question is: Do I really want to die. 

End my existence and all chance for a possible good ending. Not that I think that I will have one. I dont get lucky. I already had enough luck being born into this family at this time, do we really think I deserve any more? Honestly I dont think I deserve anything. 

Is this the mental disorder talking? I dont know. 

Is there a seperation between me and the mental disorder? My formative growing up years were dominated by selfhatred. I don't know anything else, my childhood drowned out by days of starvation, selfharm and painful memories. My personality is my depression, and my depression is my personality. 

Pessimistic Optimist or optimistic Pesssimist, is there really a Difference? In the end we all go in the ground and are forgotten after atleast 100 years. (Outliers proving the thesis here)

So why would I attempt to try. I have fought for 4 years now. Since I left school. 

Im 22 now. 

Used to think I wouldnt make it past 20. Or even past 19. I honestly didnt even believe I would make it to the next day, but I never really did it, did I? Apart from the couple of times when I failed, that no almost no one knows about. 
I wish I had tried harder. At everything. 

Not only the killing myself part, but also the life part. The part where you make friendships and keep them up. I dont talk to people from my school because I closed myself completely off the last two years I was there. I was so deep in my selfhatred that I am still convinced the teachers mustve faked my grades. How could I, who was basically asleep the entire year, manage a passable grade? 

Now I am scared of making new friends. After a couple of weeks they always leave. When they notice my jokes are getting repetetitve, or when they catch me in a bad mood. 

I am always angry and lash out. I am like a wounded animal, barely able to control myself, in complete survivor mode. Constantly on edge, praying to survive another day for then salvation might come. 

But it never does. 

Life keeps moving, I keep surviving. 

And most importantly, hating myself.