I can't get out of bed.  I can't clean my room.  I can't shower.  I can't breath.  I can't focus.  I can't.  I can't.  I can't.  Everyone says I being weak.  They say I am being dramatic.  I keep it all to myself.   No one notices.  I cut.  I burn.  I punch my stomach.   I hurt to feel something.   The pain is my addiction.   They say to just stop.  I can't stop.  I don't want to stop.  I will not stop.  I want my dream of becoming invisible to come true.  I want to not exist.   I want to die.  I see no point to staying in this world.  I talk to a therapist and my doctor.  I tell them about my research.  Don't OD.   You will just throw up.  Don't slit your wrist.  You will pass out and the bleeding will stop.   Don't hang.  Someone will see you.   I'm searching for how to end.  They want to hospitalize me. I don't want to get better.  Soon I find my guardian angel.  They give me drugs.  They take away my anxiety.   They give me energy.  They make me smile.  I can finally leave my bed.  I am not ready to face the world at whole.  I sit outside with the hot sun on my back.  My hair is brushed.   My body is clean. I am no longer scared of myself.  My battle wounds are turning to scars.   I read my books.   I feel what the characters feel.  I help them to the end of their story.  I can now experience love.  Anger.  Excitement.   Sadness.   I'm not numb anymore.   I now see myself as healed.   I see a point to live.  When I grow up.  I will help.   Help anyone get through a hard time.  I will become someone's guardian angle. 

Everyone said it would get batter.

I never believed it was true.

It just took me 18 long years.

Find one thing to hold on to.

Never let go.