If I sit in my room all day doing nothing, there are no repercussions. For whom do I live? No one cares. No one depends on me. Nothing is worth it. There is nothing, only an emptiness that cannot be filled with video games and funny pictures, only masked by. And no one else seems to care, let alone notice my mental torment.
I want to die, but my life does not give me a reason to end it. The absence of a reason to end a life should never bring its demise. I feel like I want to break someone's heart, or get a terrible disease, or commit a violent crime just to have a motivation to tie the noose around my neck. But there is nothing... only a crushing depression brought about by my own admission.