Thoughts

"I can't do this. I'm so tired. I just want to quit," I say through clenched teeth.

"Are you okay?"

I grunted, but I wanted to say, No, Mum, I'm not okay and you're not okay, but let's keep lying to each other since the truth hurts. I wanted to tell Mum a lot, but I couldn't say the words. I spent more time imagining conversations with her, and dad, than I did having them.

"I don't want to talk about it!" I shouted as I left the room.

"Fine, do what you deem fit," she snapped at me and swung the door shut. I wanted to turn around and admit my helplessness. Mum, I want to talk to you so you can tell me what to do, but there's a wall and I just can't smash through it.

"Fine!" I shouted over my shoulder, but regretted that immediately. I wanted to say, Mum, I'm sorry. You don't deserve this crap. I want to be a better son, but I don't know how.

I propped my weak, shaking body onto the sofa and buried my face using my palms, hoping to find some strength. I know now more than ever that I can't go on like this for even one more day or sleepless night. I need to find the courage to either live or kill myself. I can't live in between any longer.