You’re not alone.

How did I get here? I don’t really know I just did. I was happy once that was a long time ago. And no matter how much I built my life around other people, how much I loved them… how much I cared, they would never really know. And maybe that’s my fault, maybe it is.

I’m the one who kept secrets. The one who never let myself feel, talk, try to reach out… but in the end they probably wouldn’t have cared anyway. I took care of them, and they felt seen, I took care of them, and tried to be me. But you can’t really be yourself when the real you could ruin everything.

To let my guard down could mean my world collapses, but in the end it doesn’t matter. Nothing really matters. We’re all a product of what other people make us…

And it just so happened that I became a product of control. Control, it’s a funny thing really because it’s a figment, a concept, a wish. One that will never be real because it’s a wish. You can think that you’re in control but eventually you’ll realize you weren’t. People think they’re in control everyday but then they die, they get hurt… because control isn’t real it’s a wish, a wish that I tried to hold onto but I couldn’t.

No I’m done. And maybe that’s why I have this knife, and maybe that’s why the blood is rolling down my wrists. But at least I’m finally free. They survived before me, they can survive after me. I hope. I guess I’ll never know…