I dont have to kill myself. Im already very much dead. Breathing. Im not alive. Heart is beating. But I dont have anyone to love. I have a pulse. But hope has flatlined. No... Im not living surely. I have no more goals or dreams. The dead doesnt dream right? Theres nothing forward. Theres nothing but darkness and nothingness. Much like my life. But in a sense, thats the beauty of death. I dont think there is a grand meaning to life. I dont think people have born purposes. I think marginalizing life as a whole helps me. Trying to realize in the end its not a big deal. Life is not precious. Nothing I do here good or bad really matters. I hate life with a fury. I cant imagine the foolish soul that slipped into this body. Maybe this is punishment. Maybe this is hell. I dont need people telling me to get professional help or that there is hope. Its patronizing. I was diagnosed with a life I dont want inside a man who I hate but wake up to in the mirror every single day. Ive been there. All the therapy and hospitals. Years searching for a cure to my misery. There is none. I dont believe there is anymore. I dont care to search or fight. Im not worth it. Life is not worth it. I dont care about myself or love myself. Infact the opposite. I hate myself intensely. I dont want to be here. I shouldnt be here. The world doesnt need me. Im useless. Im ugly. Im sick. Im a nobody. A piece of crap. I wasnt made to survive here. I wish I had the courage to leave. I wish I could put a bullet through my head but I cant. Im a coward. You know life is beautiful... for some. It can be intensely amazing. It takes someone who really doesnt have a life to see how beautiful it truly is from the outside. To love and experience success and happiness. To have friends and family. To look great and have confidence. To make money and travel. Some people have heaven on earth. And some people have hell on earth. Even those who have nothing and are poor, they still have family, or love or looks and hope. I have none of that. I have no chance of that. There isnt a drug, pill, or psych that can help with what I got. The problem is at the core of me. The core of my being. Its never going away. Its a part of me as much as my own flesh and it will never go away. I let it in. I let it all get in. I let it kill me. I lost my life. But my life was never precious to begin with. People treat me like I have a flesh eating disease. Yeah yeah, I hate me too. Im not your friend and your not mine. Lets not pretend. I dont want to be this. My eyes are dried up. Theres no reason to cry anymore. The cries ring hollow. There isnt a person who cares. There isnt a God who cares. People eat each other. We all do. We tear each others hearts right out of our chest. No guilt, no remorse. Its easy. Its our nature. I am that troll that lives under the bridge. That filthy dirty bridge. That filthy dirty troll. I live in the darkness. Green with envy. All of the beautiful happy, normal people cross over me. Every single day I hear the laughter, the love, the happiness. I cant help but to peek and see everyone so full of life. Everyone but me. Wishing I could be like them. Just one of them. Wishing I could be even the worse one of them. Anything is better than being me. A filthy, dirty, ugly troll. I know im just an ant. And you are all Gods and Goddesses. But can you still be my friend. Im not worthy. Foolish little ant. Can I someday be like one of you. Why did God make you so beautiful and me so ugly. Why did God give you so much and give me nothing? Why doesnt God love me too? Everyday under the bridge, hoping and dreaming, pretending and daydreaming, that im one of you. I built a lover out of rocks. I made her hair out of long grass. I made her hands and arms out of sticks. I carved in her eyes, nose and a smile. I carved a heart on her chest. I imagine she is real like the normal people that cross the bridge. Like the princess in the carriage. I imagine im her prince. The love of my life. I told her I never leave her and love her with all of my heart. I tried to hold her and she crumbled to the ground. I dream about love. I cant imagine what it feels like. I never had it. I know what I am. I am a beast. And life is no fairy tale. Im a beast. That dreamed of being a man. That dream is dead. One day I will die. Probably very soon. It will truly be over. No more nightmares. No more crying. No more suffering. No more sadness. No more envy. I wont feel depression. I wont feel anxiety. Ill never have another attack. No more memories. No more guilt. No more pain. No more longing for love. No more lonliness. I dont have to see another beautiful face. I dont have to ever see my face. I dont have to ever hear friends and groups of people laughing. I wont ever be jealous of you anymore. I wont have to struggle and go hungry. I wont have to hear another yelling voice. My demons will have noone to torment anymore. No more mistakes. No more tragedies. No more trauma and abuse. No more sickness and pills. No more hurting from everything I lost. You cant hurt me anymore. You cant lie to me anymore or use me anymore. Death is my friend. Death is my redemption. Death is my vengence. Death is my freedom. Death is my paradise. Where we will all be the same. And where I am beautiful. You fear death because you have so much here to live for. You got the gift of heaven here on earth. Your so blessed and beautiful. You can have anyone, any love, anybody. You can have anything, go anywhere. Your so blessed. I cant imagine what it is like to have lived as you. All of the normal ones. But soon your gifts, and money and beauty and blessing will mean nothing. See I love death. It gives me a chance to be equal with you. See I dont fear death because I have nothing here to live for. I wish I could see your last days. The misery, the pain, the suffering, the sickness, the tears, its all promised. Death is promised. It was promised to me. It is my gift. Your so happy. Life is so beautiful. But soon after im gone you will have to come down here with me. Under the bridge. Its my only comfort. I want to welcome you. Welcome all of you. I wish I could. All of you. My family. We will all be buried or burned and returned to dust. Down here we are all the same. There is no beauty or money or wealth or blessings. There is no God down here. Not one that cares enough that I know of. There is no love or hope. You have no more advantages. You cant bring your beautiful flesh with you. Im not ugly anymore. Down here it doesnt matter whose your type or what your used to. Theres no happiness. No laughter. And there is no memory of what you once were before. No memory of you wonderful, beautiful life. I know why God made us. I understand. I have to be the dark so you can be light. I have to be sad so you can be happy. I have to be ugly so you can be beautiful. I have to be hopeless so you can have hope. I have to exist for you. To be the example for you to see. To know the difference between your heaven and my hell. The dead dont dream anymore. I think I understand now. God created life for you, and death for me. Death offers me more than life ever could. To feel and know absolutely nothing. I see now. Thats the beauty of death.