Chapter 1: Beginning? Maybe.

Dear Diary,

Where should I start, I've wondered this for a while. I don't particularly like starting at the beginning, nor the end. I feel like letting people explore possibilities and making ideas for themselves is more fun so I'll start in the middle instead.

I despise myself. I think of death everyday and how I'd want to die. Whether by hanging or by drowning, by knife cuts or something else. Who knows. In the end, I never do get close to killing myself. I've had plenty of opportunities, that's for sure. But I've never gone through with it.

I wonder whether it's because I fear pain, no. Hate pain. I don't fear pain if it's necessary. It might be because I'm a coward that I don't kill myself. Who knows honestly. Maybe it's some twisted wish to not make my family suffer and instead...

I bear my silence.

I bear my secrets.

I bear my wishes for death.

But I still live.

I wonder. Why do I not end my life? I've wondered for so long. Is it just my body that wishes for survival? Does my mind have some wish for life in some deep crevice inside it? Do I write things like this and delete them because I don't wish to be pitied? Because I don't wish for help? No, then I'd simply not write this at all.

I write this because I wish for something...

Goodnight Diary.

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