CarizzCruzem

I want to die now. Why was I ever born in the first place? The irony of it all. I want to die but I can never kill myself. The very idea of the Entity that allowed my existence is the very thing that I am afraid of. I do not want to go to hell. I do not want to go to hell. I do not want to go to hell. I have received countless of email messages about friends—having friends and keeping the ones you have got. I’ve forwarded them all, but… I don’t know. Do the people who forwarded those messages to me really mean the messages in them? If they do, where are they now? Why did I ever get to live? And why friends are so important to me anyway? I have been ignored all my life. I have tried my best to be a friend. Is my best not good enough? Then, how can I be a friend? And how can someone be my friend? I have watched countless of movies that depict friendships. And I have shed many tears crying out loud to God to give me a friend—a true friend, a friend that I could count on and one with whom I would feel needed; a friend that would send me even a stupid email saying that he or she is still alive; a friend that would not be afraid to be silent with me even on the phone. Am I asking too much? I don’t know. I can never know since no one has ever told me so. I’ve been talking to God and then it struck me, am I communicating with him the wrong way? Then, how would I communicate with God, how do you talk to God? I feel deserted. I feel robbed in some way. Why do people ignore me? Maybe it’s just me. Or maybe… I don’t know. Maybe I’m not trying harder. But doesn’t friendship come naturally? Maybe I’m forcing myself too much on people who don’t even want to see me or hear my voice. I have initiated friendships but not one of them lasted long enough for me to feel or even have a minute idea of how it is to have a long-time friend. I smile a lot. I smile and talk even to strangers! So what is wrong with me? Maybe I’m trying too hard. I want to get close to someone, to many people, but no one seems to want to get close to me. I don’t know. I want to die yet I don’t want to kill myself. I didn’t choose to live, but why do I have to go through all this? I’m desperate. I’ve tried to talk to God, but is He listening? Or maybe, He’s ignoring me like every body else is. It looks like as if I am doomed forever. I’m stuck here in this mess called life— the life that if I was given the chance to choose I wouldn’t have chosen.