I do it all the time. I overthink to the point where it becomes a reality. The point where I believe things that are maybe true. I want to not believe the false things I tell myself. But every time, every second of my useless life, I believe the things I tell myself. My friends do hate me, my best friends want to get away from me, and honestly, I'm better off d e a d. The world wouldn't change, no one would be effected, and nothing would get worst from then. I would no longer be ashamed of my grades in class or what I look like. I've never thought about kicking the bucket so much this year. And it's only the first half of 2018. Perhaps I won't see the end of this year. Or the birth of the next one. But it's okay. Why? Because I've overthought this scene where a method of suicide would end it all. To the point that I want to do it so bad. Yet, something holds me back. I wish I could just go already. Seems like everyone is itching for me to leave. I hope when I do this…no one would weep over me. I hope they live their life without caring about it even happening.