A letter from August 23rd, 2020

Dear me. 23.08.2020 I really don`t know how to start this letter… I just find the future so hard to imagine. I think about it a lot now adays. I really don`t have a clue, a clue of what it will be like, and if there even will be a future. I hope so. I know only I can assure that you read this from five years from now, but I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up. I ‘we been depressed for the last two years now, I started om my anti-depressive meds six days ago, 17.08.2020 and I am not doing so good. It interests me, gives me hope. That you might read this sometime, that I might read this some time. The reason I want to write myself a letter is so that I can be honest with myself, with you. I feel like I am falling down hill, further and further, day by bay. In the past, the thought of ******* myself scared me a little, I wanted to do it, but I knew it weren’t an option. I thought about my family and friends, how they would react. I liked to think that they would care if I died. And I still do, but even though I`m standing in this crowd with people who care about me I feel so alone. I have some close friends or family members that I know I can talk to, but I don`t really want to. I know that if I let my darkness shine on them, they might get stuck with some of it. And I don’t want to put them in pain. It makes everything so hard, what I really want and what I know it would do to them. But then I`m left with the thought “why should I hold back just to not hurt them, when they don’t seem to care about me now? Why do I have to be under a grave for everyone to talk to me, tell me how much they care about me and love me and how much they wish I was here.”. and that’s the saddest part, I have been dead for a long time, inside. And nobody has noticed. I play with the thought of how good of an acter I could had become if I made a shot for that. Because every day lately I struggle not to just **** myself, and I hide it to others whit a smile or a laugh, and nobody notices. I haven’t cried much the last two years. Sometimes I can manage to force a tear or two out, but that’s it. I just feel so empty that I can`t cry. I want to cry, and I do get mental breakdowns, and I cry, a lot, but just without the tears. And then what`s the point? Enough about me for now, how are you? I hope you are alive, and I hope you`re not still depressed, I hope you managed to finish school, I hope that you got a EMT license and that you have found love. Because that’s something I seem to **** up at the time. I fall in love so fast, and with people that don’t really love me back. Or when I feel that the feeling is mutual, I get scared, and friend-zones them. I can`t even figure out what my ****** preference is at this point. I find both girls and boys attractive. If I imagine myself in a relationship, I prefer it to be with a boy. A sweet, happy, kind, nice boy, who cares for me more than anything else. I don’t really find it scary; I mean if I`m ***. I just wish I could know. At this point I feel; useless, like a nobody, alone, ugly, stupid, weird, disappointing to my friends and family, like there is no hope for me, weak, dumb, idiotic, different, sad, mad, irritated and annoyed. I feel so sorry for my mom, who just wishes me the best, when what I want the most is to **** myself. I feel so sorry for my friends that has to listen to me complaining about my silly problems all the time, I feel so sorry for everyone around me that feels that I bring the mood down, because I know that I am an heavy person to deal with right now. I just hope so much that you have changed, that you are a different person form me now. I don’t like myself at this point. I hope you have found the meaning of life. I hope you have found your soulmate, a best friend and a partner. I hope that you are happy. I am cheering for you, and I hope that you get to read this letter. I hope that you look back at me and know that you will never ever end up like this again. Good luck. Me.