Every time my birthday is near I feel like dying.
I feel like need to die.
I feel like I deserve to die.
I mean why I am allowed to live when you are not here to share this life with me.
Why am I living and still going on when you left.
I guess some questions never have the answer.
Everybody asks me why I hate my birthday.
I want to scream at them that how can I not hate it?
How can I not hate it when I know that I do not deserve to live?
How can I live something that is not mine?
How can I enjoy being alive when I know I killed you.
I murdered you.
I murdered my love.
I said I won’t live without you.
I said I can’t live without yet here I am.
Here I am living every single day.
Every year I realize that I am living.
Why am I living?
There are people who want to live yet I am blessed with a life.
A life that maybe I don’t want.
What would I do to give my life away so the ones who want to live can get a day more?
Just a day might be enough.
Take it away and give it to someone who actually deserves.
Isn’t that what you did to the reason that was worth living for.
Living is no longer fun.
It is truly a torture.
Living is not what I want.
Dying is what I really need.