It’s better than it used to be. I used to feel like I didn’t have a purpose, I didn’t want to live. Medication didn’t help me all, other than making me feel so numb I hated myself more. I slept all day, and watched telly all night – that was my circle of life. But now, now I get out of bed every day, by 8am. I wish I could say I do it for myself, or I do it because I am happier, but I don’t… I do it for my Dad. He gives me a reason to get up in the morning, to try and live everyday.

Ever since Mum died, everything has been harder… as you would expect though. But, sometimes I think I held myself together too well at the start. I told myself I was strong enough, I let everyone believe I was fine.

But the truth is; now I’m not. And I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.

It’s really hard to cry for help, when you’re convinced your every move pisses at least one person off. The worst of it all is that; I sit here writing this, in hopes that one of my friends might read it. In the hopes that someone I love will see it, come to me, hug me and tell me everything will be okay.

But that won’t happen. It never does. That’s the downside to this. Writing it out is so easy. But saying it? Letting those words break through your lips?
That’s a different story.