I WISH YOU KNEW HOW I FELT

If I had known back then,

what I now realize I knew.

Perhaps things might have changed.

Perhaps I wouldn't have experienced everything you had me go through.

Maybe I would have made my shortcomings the subject of a lovely lie so that you wouldn't have known about it.

When I didn't cut my wrist too deeply, I felt the blood triple down my arm.

However, the pain I was experiencing was nothing compared to the anguish I was experiencing.

It also caused me to reflect.

I wasn't good enough.

For you or anyone else, I was never good enough.

And that's what makes me sad.

Because if I were good enough, you wouldn't make me feel so ignored.

Because we would still be having a sincere conversation if I were good enough.

I no longer have enough to even fit here.

I just never seem to be good enough, do I?

The fact that I would wake up knowing I was still alive irritates me.

Aware that life might have been different, but that would be my fault now.

I simply have a distorted sense of reality.

Furthermore, I am solely responsible for my actions.

No one gives a fuck that I am ripped and damaged.

My mind is racing, cramming itself into every crevice of the pitch-black void.

My barriers are collapsing around me.

Even though I am aware there is no way out, I wish there was.

I'm broken in here, and you couldn't give a damn.

I have the impression that all of the effort and affection I put into you has suddenly vanished.

It feels like there are devils in an alley with me.

yelling for rescue, but their laughing overpowers my cries.

I am merely forced to wait for a shining knight to come and save me.

But realizing that none will attend,

Realizing that no one cares about anything but their own needs,

Knowing that I was a non-entity to you hurts like hell.

Additionally, seeing there is no genuine way out of this living nightmare of mine,

I had the impression that nobody wanted me for who I am, that I was a big zero.

I had the impression that nobody would even be bothered if I had died in my brain.

Only when suicide involves physical harm is it considered severe,

When suicide is psychological, nobody gives a damn.

In that small, gloomy space, I feel so alone.

allowed to cry alone, allowed to die alone.

Even after my death, nobody would know,

Suicide or mental illness as a cause was never a major issue in the first place.

I may be present today,

However, I might not be present tomorrow.

Afterward, it might be too late to save me.

But I sincerely wish you did.

Perhaps you could have prevented a death.