TW // SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

📚 If all I ever seem to do is make one mistake after another, then what’s left for me to dream about? What’s the point of trying to reach for a better tomorrow when every step I take just seems to push me further away from it? And what’s the point of living when the things I used to dream about don’t even feel meaningful to me anymore? I spent the whole night thinking about disappearing, wondering if there was any way to make it hurt less, going over every possibility in my head. So why am I still crying when I look at a video of my old, fragile father eating nasi goreng on a quiet Sunday?