my journal

when i wake up i grab my journal i write my nightmare down then put on clothes for the day i force myself to pick up my feet i force myself to smile and laugh tho thoughts of death run through my head constantly i close my eyes and picture the blood and my lifeless body and i smile at the thought i think more as i feel the scars on my wrist i think about my life and how quickly it went to hell and i hear people say it will get better and i just wanna pin them to a wall and yell "NOT EVERYONE GETS BETTER" i scream and cry at home about all the fucked up shit ive been through so many people parents counselors teachers friends strangers say "it will get better" i have one thing to say about that not always not everyone not everything some things wont get better so to those that know the feeling i have been there i think about death all the time