SUICIDE

So where does the kid go when they put a bullet through their head? I’m not healthy. People might say my mind is sick. I don’t think they’re as willing to help as they are to criticise. Fake. I don’t hate people but I hate their fakeness. Even when and if my mind is sick, I don’t care about your criticism. I wasn’t meant to be here. The world’s judgement seems to make my prayers stronger. And even when you’re good to me, I’m searching for eternal truth not your short-lived approval. I have thought about suicide a million times but bullets and bombs seem like a fashionable way to end yourself. Like there’s more drama to it. Does suicide lead to hell? I’m praying that God will understand. I post something and the world thinks I’m sick, just because I think and they want me to stay blind. But how can I understand life, if I stay like you? You’re so boring. I hate being with you. It’s not meant to be this way. Don’t tell me this is the only way, because there is only ONE WAY. This isn’t it. 

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