I keep telling myself that I'm done. That tomorrow I'll finally do it. But I don't. I honestly keep hoping that maybe I'll get shot or ran over or that maybe I can overdose on some painkillers. Why can't I just do it already? I tell myself I want to die constantly but I also have that little voice telling me not to. I hate that little voice. And I hate the fact that I'm slowly forcing myself to be accepting of the idea of going to hell so I can kill myself without hesitating. I honestly want to start sh ing but I physically can't. I can't do anything. Basic hygiene is hard. Eating is hard. School work is hard. Waking up is hard. Living to my own expectations is suffocating. I don't even know who i am anymore. I wish I could talk to someone about everything. About all of my problems but I can't. I want someone to hug me and tell me I'm enough or that everything will be ok while I just ugly sob, even if I know I won't believe them.