I don't want to die. I want to live the life me and my girlfriend always dreamed of, getting a property on a lake house and living the rest of our lives together. I want to help N take care of all the pets they'll get when they get older. I want to gossip about my classmates and complain with C more. I want to reminisce on old memories with L. I want my dad to accept me, I want to open up to him. I want my mom to really be telling the truth. I want to snuggle my cats. I want to spend more time with my grandmas. But life is too hard, too brutal. To the point where the only thing I can do is die. I'm enjoying my life while I can, until I commit suicide next week. It's my only choice. I can't live through what's coming up, the mistakes I've made. I want to live, but I can't. And it hurts.