I won't be alive so I won't care who finds me.

People don't change. There are two kinds of people in the world: winners and losers. Black and white. I don't know where gray fits in, or if you can even live in that shade.

I wish I could tell my parents, " If you want to help me, help me die.

I hope they remember the good stuff, when I was a baby, a toddler, when they still had hopes and dreams for their little girl, their miracle child. In truth they were good to me. They were only doing what they knew how to do; what they thought was best.

Why am i here? What's my purpose?

At times like this, I'm thankful I don't feel love.

What will I become? Because I won't be me any longer. That will be a relief. I dont want to be the helpless person I've always been.