And I wonder why I'm not dead yet. Damn, who would even care if I was shot through the head? All I do is cause people pain or cost them money. My mom selflessly gives to me, as does my family. I don't want them to. I don't deserve it. My mom needs money for surgery to fix her back, and I just leech it off of her like a parasite. I get "I love you" every day, but does she actually f-cking mean it? Who would love a depressive leech like me? None of my friends want to hear sh-t about my depression, I'm a burden to everyone around me. They go silent and change the subject like it doesn't hurt like hell. I've been hiding it, acting as if all my problems are gone. But why are they gone? The medication? The damned medication is the only thing keeping me alive. My depression gets worse? They prescribe more pills. That's all my life will ever be. A numbness from those little white pills.