I am sorry that I keep telling you that I want to die, but why would I lie. I know it twists and rings the words on your ears; how could someone you love want to die. So you shrug it off , take it as a joke. But it’s not funny and I’m not laughing.
I’m sorry that I can’t take a compliment. But it’s only because I know there lies. I wish I could love myself but it’s internally impossible when your thoughts surround you with crushing truths and everyone else reveals only lies.
My dad thinks I’m always happy. When I hint at the emotions that really burden me inside he’s surprised. Because “Lottie you can’t begin to imagine what sadness feels like , your only a child.”
But at 15 I’ve met the darkest of nights, deepest ocean of thoughts , and drowned almost to death numerous times