Failing to die is not succeeding to live, and vice versa.

I have done many wrong things, in my short life so far.

Made people leave, made them hate me, made then cry, and made them hate themselves.

I don't have the abilities to keep going on with this. I don't want to be so hateful, and cruel. Maybe, just perhaps, I could better myself. Maybe be nice in the face of anger, and pain. Try and find the self confidence to love someone without reservations, and fear. To be loved in return even?

 

I once sat on the beach, looking to the water. Contemplating my own death, I watched the waves, kissing the shore.

"I could drown myself" I thought, hopefully. Then I realized, "Right...I'm too chicken to even get in the water... remember when I was 12 and almost drowned? Not happening..."

 

I once stood beneath a willow tree, shielded from the summer sun. I watched it's branches sway peacefully.

I also contemplated there, as I hummed to myself, gently touching the bark.

"I could hang myself." I thought with a devilish grin. Then I sighed in dismay "I haven't any rope to do so with...I should've remembered such a thing."

 

I once watched a storm, raging and pure. The lightening was vicious, the thunder proud.

Soon enough contemplated yet another idea. As the lightning streaked the sky in fearful color.

"I could be struck, fried to a crisp" I kicked a rock in anger as my own mind retorted. "How would you like to do so? You haven't anything to be struck by."

 

Time and time again. I am lost. I lose to my own damned infernal thoughts. I have failed at living it seems, now I also fail at dying too? Fail and fail. Struggle and struggle.

I need someone to tell me, what have I been doing wrong?