Untitled thoughts

Each cry for help is ignored, each time I reach for someones hand to save me mine is smacked away. What’s the point in life when there’s nothing to live for, no friends, no family, all they do is throw you down and push your face in the dirt. I’m not good enough, I never have been and never will be, I’m unloveable. Hell if my own mother couldn’t love me who would? I’m tired of this fight I’m so tired. The emotional bruises hurt more than visable ones ever have, maybe dying wouldn’t be as painful as living.