So I give up just burn me away

Useless. Burden. Broken. Unwanted. 

Unremarkable. Mediocre. Ugly. Fat. Failure. 

Lonely. Forgettable. Lazy. Pathetic. 

Stupid. Selfish. Weak. Difficult. Annoying. 


I will be an inconvenience for a week or two. 

Then life resumes. School still goes on. Jobs get worked. 

The soil will swallow me and I won’t matter at all in death either. Not one bit. 

Nothingness. Bring me nothing. No time. No thoughts. No pain. 

An unlovable lump inside your throat. I’ll be removed. Sorry for the space I occupied. For the time I wasted. For the way I wasn’t easy. For the pain I brought. For everything. So pitiful was I. What silly dreams I had. 

Will anybody actually mourn? Care about my things? My thoughts? Breathe my scent on left behind clothing? Say kind things?

Or will it be like my father, dumpsters filled, smallest headstone bought and never visited enough? My pain too great to do him any honor. 

I’m worthless and a burden. Of course not. 

I hate myself so much. I’ve only ever wanted to be wanted. And even that was too much. I’m not pretty enough nor clever. I say the wrong things, occupy the wrong spaces, like the wrong things, choose the wrong choices. React the wrong way. Love the wrong way. 

I don’t want to survive this time. Please. 

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