i am left to contemplate how worthy i am to live on
why should there be a purpose to my life? surely there isn't.
in my eighteen years i feel i have done all there was for me to do.
and damnit- sometimes death calls much more sweetly than life.
so much easier
i'm teetering. on edge. of easy.
who's going to stop me?
i'm not afraid.
sure you all will cry. for a day or two.
then move on.
donate all my junk (to the Thrift Store).
where the same empty hearted eyes will eat away my things like they did gma's.
and life will go on. without me.
yeah. easy.