Next time...

Next time, I think I’ll fall off the earth.

                At least that seems less painful. Or, maybe I’ll lock myself away, in a little room where no one can find me. Sure, I’ll go insane with my thoughts poisoning me, but that’s hardly anything new. At least then I won’t have to bother anyone else. Or maybe, just maybe, a deep black crevasse will open up in the ground and suck me up like a black hole for everything I’ve ever done. At least then I’ll no longer feel.

                Sometimes, it all feels just a little too real. Or maybe it doesn’t feel real enough. I guess it’s a little too hard to tell sometimes. It doesn’t really matter. The real point is that no matter how close to good something is in my life, I always seem to ruin it.

                Is it possible for someone to dig themselves in a hole so deep they’ll never be able to get out? And is it possible for me to continue falling? Some things are so hard to explain to people, so I won’t even try.

                Now I sound so dramatic. Kind of like my mom does when she’s “sick”. Which only makes me hate myself more.

                I’m going to be the death of myself. I just know it.

                Love,

                Xoxox

                ~Baylee Jean

                P.S. I have to document this. The other day while I was talking to Conner he was actually at a loss for words. I never thought that would happen! It was shocking ;)