I have a good family, good friends, a good home, and good grades. So why can’t I ever feel honest with someone? If I told someone about the cuts on my thigh that began when all the times I was never listened to became too much they might take me as ungrateful. If I told someone about how I dream everyday about a world where I don’t exist, they would cry and ask what they did wrong, they might even pity me or pressure me to fix myself, like Im some broken toy they need to plaster a smile on so they feel better about themselves. Worst part of it all, is that this loneliness, this isolation, the scars on my legs, it all feels validating. Like all the tears I never got to cry are valuable now. I want to die, and I want to feel like I want to die. I want someone to listen, but not pity or fix me. I want to die so badly I hate myself and how I can’t care about anyone and how I can’t appreciate anything.