I fantasize about my family finding my dead body. How my father would scream and cry in denial. How my mother would weep and whine in such a sickly way. How all joy would fade from their faces forever when they find my lifeless body in the closet with the belt around my neck. My father would scream “why” “why did you do it.” He’d know I went straight to Hell because that is what he said would happen if I killed myself. The demons will finally appear to my soul and say; it’s time to go, and take me to that coliseum.

My family does not know how mentally unwell I am and all the terrible things I have done. That is why I rarely leave my room and do not do anything. I wish they knew but I think if I told them anything I would be kicked out and they would be emotionally destroyed. So I just stay in limbo with them bothering me to do something. Sorry I can not anymore. I am not well.

Sick of goyland I was born for more than this

The Exorcist was written about me it progressed my coming