I’m broken. I can’t be fixed with drugs – as they tell me. They say it takes time and effort on my part, do they think I enjoy this? Like I haven’t tried to fix it? They don’t understand. They don’t understand what it feels like to be broken, to feel utterly hopeless and feeling that no matter what happens you’ll still be broken, and hurt, and scared. I don’t want to do this anymore but I’m too scared to let go. I'd do anything for an ounce of peace. I hate myself so utterly and completly I can't even look in a mirror anymore. Death is peaceful, isn't it? At least that's what part of myself tells me. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory - nothingness - it doesn't matter, it'll be better than here. It has to be.