You said you couldn’t be there for me – you, who I’ve counted on most of all.
You said I stress you out when I vent about my depression, and that you’re tired of it and want me to stop for awhile, to “give you time” to “work things out.”
I was going to tell you that the suicidal thoughts are coming back again, but I guess you’ll never know. You don’t want to be there, and you were the only thing that was keeping me here. You know what? I said I’m fine with it, but do you even care to know the truth about whether I’m okay or not?
I counted on you to bring me back down to Earth. You were (and I guess still are) my best friend. But what happened to the girl you used to be? Why aren’t you there anymore?
I wish you could understand that I really don’t have anyone else to go to right now.
But I guess you’ll never know that. You’ll never know that I’m slipping back under the surface, you’ll never know about what’s going on at home, and you’ll never know that you were all I had.
Don’t even bother trying to get me to understand. You really don’t know how much you hurt me.
You’ll never know, anyway. There’s no point in telling you anything about myself anymore.
Why do I even try anymore?