I'm sad.

I can only become happy when I leave this place that should be my home, behind. 

There is so much pain inside of me and it's eating me up.

I was never allowed to decide for myself.

The only decision I can make for myself though, is my own death.

No, I am not going to kill myself because I have been through so much and I am a warrior. I will not give up. Happiness will come my way.

I believe in that. 

At the age of 12 I found my own way to cope with that agony that started to grow inside of my heart. I was mentally hurt to the point where I felt like an empty case. I wished for nothing but death. I was a child and I was lost. The only one I could talk to was myself. And since writing has always played a huge role in my life I started to do what I could best. I hurt myself. I was acting reckless. I could not accept how things were. I remember getting hit when I was 5 though I can't remember what for. A few years later I felt the hands on my face again. But I couldn't feel it anymore. I cut myself. I burned myself. I branded myself. Now, almost 4 years later I still have these scars. But after time has passed I noticed that physical pain doesn't ease the mental torture. I have no ways to cope. I can only cry, cry, cry. But even now where I'm writing this, it doesn't exactly feel like coping. I need to leave this place and let all my frustration and anger out. BUT I CANNOT.