The truth

My friends found out tonight about my depression. About how I want to end it all. They drove me home. They talked to me. They think it helped. I let them think that. There is nothing they can do to help me. I am the only one who can help me. And I have no idea what to do.

All I know is that I have the hiccups and I want to smoke. Hopefully I can hide the smell with the sound of my intoxication.

Here's a funny picture to make it seem like I'm blogging about something other than my sad life.

A picture of me during the eighth grade Goth Years. I'm the one on the left in the stockings. 

I look happy. What a funny joke.

Yes, I have felt this way since before the eighth grade. How did I make it to age 21? I ask myself that question every day.