Run down buildings with chipped paint and empty lots.

sorry, i really don't want to see anyone at all anymore. I'm so tired of talking to people and pasting on a smile in front of others. I'm so tired of pretending to be happy sometimes taht when i'm actually happy, it's such a foreign feeling and I do everything i can to push it away from me. Because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve anything i get or receive. i'm just so worthless. I shouldn't even live. all i do is fuck up. i mess up my relationships. i mess up other people's relationships. i mess up my life. i mess up other people's lives. what use am i when all i do is mess up.

i don't know. i'm just really useless. i can't make anyone happy. i can't even make myself happy. things rarely go my way. even though there might be a few times when things go my way, everything just crashes and implodes and i'd have to rebuild my self esteem and self respect up again. i don't want to anymore. i'm so tired of building and rebuilding all for naught. what's the point if everything falls apart again... why should i keep on trying. why even bother living. yea. there's. just.. nothing. 

the darkness presses against me. my foot inches downward on the gas pedal and i accelerate past the run down buildings with chipped paint and empty lots. hot salty tears roll down my cheeks and i make no effort to wipe them away because i know that if i reach up to press my palm against my eyes, more tears would squeeze through and fall even harder. one hand glued to the shift knob and the other to the top of the wheel. a tiny jerk. left. right. either way might be my last. my eyes close ever so slightly as if to take in my surrounding: the middle of a run down gang ridden city with no cars, no pedestrians, no witnesses. my eyes flutter awake and land on the orange lit digital clock along the dashboard. The time stops before midnight and I've run out of time.