I...hate myself. Everyone is dying, lying, crying. And for what? They're loved, they just can't see it. And I'm trying to convince them not to hurt themselves, but it's not working. Everyone is still dying, lying, crying, but they're trying. That's what they say, anyway. Do I really believe them? Sometimes. But I keep trying to help, it's as if if I don't help, I'll be punished. I should be punished. I care too much! Most of my friends are suicidal and it HURTS. It hurts to have so many people leave you. To have so many people want to leave you. But no, I have to keep trying, lying, crying, saying that I'm fine when I'm clearly not! The only thing keeping me alive is ****ing musicals. Because I get attached to fictional characters. The ones who are depressed and lonely. I say I simply like the music, but half of the reason I like so many musicals is because they're RELATEABLE. I'll tell you what. If you don't kill yourself, I won't kill myself. Of course, nobody's probably going to read this, so why does it m