I hate it. I hate how I bring it upon myself. I have every opportunity to lead a happy life but instead I willingly sink into dark spells of depression.

I hate taking days off school because my anxiety makes me unable to cope with the stupid gossip spread about me. I hate how everyone is so quick to assume things. People make mistakes and that's ok.

I hate how it feels like I'm drowning. I'm drowning and watching everyone else breathing. It sucks because no one can help. I can't tell anyone; they would think I'm "attention seeking".

I hate how I push people away because I don't deserve anyone. People treat me like shit and I always let them come running back. I'm not sure why, maybe it makes me feel better.

I hate how I'm too cowardly to take my own life. I think of ways, I plan them, I write suicide notes but I never have the courage to actually go. I wish I was strong enough.

I hate how I'm different. Other people have friends and boyfriends and they're happy and I'm just not. I don't really have anything to live for, a reason to wake up in the mornings.

I hate how I can't even tell the doctors. I can't tell anyone because I'm scared of what they'll say. My dad would think I'm crazy and hate me, my mum would be hurt. I can't let them down.

I hate myself. I hate the way I look, the way I act, the way I think. I hate how I don't eat, yet I'm still fat. I hate how I can try so hard and get nowhere. I hate how I make things hard for myself and fuck everything up. I hate feeling like this. I have some form of hope in knowing that it's not just me who feels like this daily; I hope others understand. I hope this is something that goes away eventually, however I know it is not.