Sick.

You know what scares me?

Everyone has so many insecurities. No on really ever knows what's wrong with you, and sometimes, no one really cares.

It hurts my heart to hear about how many suicides were attempted and committed because of other people.

Not their family, not themselves, People.

And when you hear about someones day, their problems, it startles me that some only want them to finish so they can tell them about how bad their day was, because everyone's life is always so much worse than anyone else's.

It sickens me, to my fucking core. That just one missed smile, could end someone's life.

That someone's ignorance, can be so very harmful, and they don't even know.

You want to tell me that you didn't know? That you didn't know how bad someone had it? How sick they were, how insane life had made them? You didn't know because you didn't ask.

The nicest person you know, the person that you never talk to because they scare you, or you're intimidated by them, the person who seems to have so many friends, could be suffering from mental illnesses, that even their parents don't know about.

They could be in the deepest hole of self-loathing, They could be about to come out of the closet, They could be so insecure about themselves, They could even be hearing voices; But most of them don't tell anyone.

Most of them tell one person, one friend, one best friend, if they're lucky enough to have one.

If your one of those people, one of those best friends, I thank you for all of your help. All of your help to those who are suffering, because love is the best form of help.

And to me, best friends are the entity of love.

Goodnight all, I hope this message says something about your perception of the world, and what really lies beneath.

I'm one of these people, on both ends.
I hear voices inside of my head. Sometimes I break down crying from what they say. I know I'll be dead by the age 27. I know I'm crazy, and I know I need help. My best friend helps me.
He wants to come out of the closet soon, and I love him to death. He helps me, and I think I help him too.
He says I do, but sometimes I don't believe him.
How could someone like me, help someone as wonderful as him?
I don't even believe that I'm a good person, he says I'm innocent, and he wishes he was too.
I love him, he's my best friend.
He loves me, I'm his best friend.
And I pray that it stays that way until I die.