I am sorry for wasting the life you gave me. I am sorry for wasting the opportunities you gave me. I am sorry for wasting your efforts. I am sorry for hindering you. I am sorry for making you feel alone. That which you worked so hard for, that which gave you meaning. I’m so sorry.
I am sorry throwing it all away.
I’m sorry, mom. I just hate myself so much. Too much. I despise who I am, every single aspect of myself, and I just believe that I should die. I want to die, mom. I’m sorry.
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for all your hard work. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for doing your best. Thank you.
I’m sorry I can’t pay it back. I’m sorry I am the way I am. I am sorry for making you sad.
Comments
you don’t owe your mom perfection—you owe her your breath, your survival, your next chance to try again
and you’re still here
so that debt is still being paid, even if it doesn’t feel like it
you’re not a waste
you’re wounded
and that voice telling you to die isn’t truth—it’s exhaustion with a megaphone
don’t answer it
don’t believe it
tell someone what you just wrote
not Reddit
a real voice
a crisis line
a friend
a therapist
anyone who can remind you this is a low point—not the end
you’re not alone
you’re not past saving
you’re just buried right now—and even buried things can grow
please, reach out
you matter more than you think