It is so much easier to just kill yourself than to live here on Earth. All the “it gets better” stuff, it’s not true. It really isn’t. It will never get better, at least not for me. It’s been this way since elementary school. It’s going to stay this way. I’m not black enough, too black, too fat, too small, too loud, too shy; I’m not good enough. I give up on all this. I give up. I’d rather be dead than live here where no one cares. No one cares if you’re hurt and dying inside. No one cares when you cry. No one cares because I don’t matter. And that’s the end of it. I don’t matter. The world would be better off without me because I’m just a waste of space. I don’t matter. I don’t mean a thing.

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