I’ve been thinking about death a lot lately and I don’t really know why. It’s always been a part of my life, a part I’ve had to fight to stay away from. Sometimes I want to die and sometimes I don’t. It’s a battle everyday. I’m not afraid of death. It’s living I’m afraid of. Yes, that sounds so cliche, but it’s the truth. I loath people sometimes, and I loath myself a lot. I can be so happy, then have it all ripped away from me in a matter of seconds. People mostly make me sad these days. They are so disappointing.