I want to stop doing what I’m doing. I want to stop going to school. I want to stop trying to please people. I want to stop caring about what people say. I want to stop thinking. I want everything to stop. I want everyone to stop.

I’m not even doing anything, but I feel like I am so damn exhausted. I’m tired of doing what people expect me to do. I’m tired of trying to live up to people’s standards so as not to disappoint them. I’m tired of everything. I’m tired of life. I’m tired of living. I mean, I know the time won’t stop to wait for me to figure out what I really want to do with my life, and I know the world won’t stop spinning just to wait for me to find myself, but is it so wrong to wish just that? I can’t even tell my parents that I want to take a break from anything. They won’t understand. Trust me, they won’t. No one understands. They’ll just be really disappointed, and I don’t want that to happen. I’m eighteen, I am lost, and I don’t want to live like this anymore. How will I be able to say that to my parents? We’re a normal family, we’re able to eat three times a day, and we’re doing well in school. Actually, thinking about it now, we don’t have any major problems at all. I’m starting to think I’m the one with a freaking problem. I suddenly get sad sometimes. There are times when I get tired of living. Suicide has been on my mind for some time now, although I’m sure I won’t do it. To be honest, I envy people who committed suicide. They were brave enough to do what they did. They have the courage that I don’t have. There’s probably a glitch in my brain for thinking that way, but I can’t help it. The idea of taking your own life is just too enticing sometimes, especially if you weren’t living at all—just simply existing, inhaling too much oxygen and consuming too much space. I don’t even know why I’m writing about this. I guess I just wanted to write out my feelings, in hopes that it’d make me feel better.