The thing is is that I know for a fact that I've been damaged for a while. I've needed some repairs for quite some time. I know this. I've known it. But there's never time, you know? There's never time and when there's time there's never motivation, and when there's motivation something comes along and takes it so I sit there thinking why'd I even try, you know? I mean, why should I keep trying if I keep getting beat down? Every time I get my head above water, something, someone, always pushes my head back underneath the surface. So I'm flailing around down there trying to swim back up and meanwhile I'm thinking "Goddamn it why wont I just fucking drown?"
So something's keeping me alive. Beats me. Maybe it's my mom praying or God or just because I'm not ready. Maybe I'm a pansy who can't make up her mind. "Well do you want to live, Alyssa?" Fuck, don't ask me, I don't know. I mean I must want to live a bit more now, because I used to think about killing myself in various ways at least twenty times every day and I think it's gone down to 1 or 2 times a week. Thats a good thing, I mean, a sane person would say it was.
