I want to scream. I want to say, “I’m lonely.” But I must suffer alone, it seems. My fingers rip at my skin, leaving it burning, prickling. If only, oh, if only they would understand. The fear I feel is not fear of the dark, but fear of the madness that lurks within. I need a little bit of hope, a pinprick of light to burst through this terrifying cover of darkness. These thoughts in my head aren’t mine. They are not voices, just angry, hateful thoughts. I don’t want to tell anyone, they will just worry. I’m lonely. I’m lonely. I’m lonely. I’M LONELY! Screams my mind. I can’t help these thoughts. They are happening more frequently now, but I must pretend I do not have them. Must pretend everything is okay. I don’t want anyone to worry about me. I’m not worthy of their worry. I take a deep breath, but it doesn’t help. If anything, it makes everything ten times worse. Tears won’t come, which makes me suffer more. I’m lonely. I must be suffering for a sin I have committed. I don’t want to suffer. I just want to tear myself apart. It would probably be better for everyone. I’m useless. Useless. Useless and lonely. Help me. Save me from myself. That’s what I would say if I could. But how could I tell anyone? I’m weak. So worthless. I can’t describe the deepness of what I’m feeling, nor how terrifyingly real it is. It is anger, fear, frustration, hate, sadness, self-pity, hopelessness, loneliness. Depression? Maybe so. Maybe everything would be easier if I just ended. But maybe that’s just selfish. I must continue living, even if it is full of empty sadness, for those I love. Maybe this is what it means when they say that love is the ultimate sacrifice? But whatever it is, I’m lonely.