All My Friends are Dead

I don’t know what I did wrong.
Suddenly I have no friends and I’ve never felt so alone.
I feel like dying every day and nobody cares, nobody notices.
I don’t know what I did wrong.
I feel like it’s my fault for not doing anything
About drifting away from everyone I love.
And nothing I do can fix it now.
I’ve got to start all over, somehow.
But I’ll probably just kill myself
Because no one knows how I feel.
And when I die, people will wonder
Why I did it.
Why I didn’t ask for help before it got this far.
That statement itself is why I did it.
For those who don’t know,
I didn’t ask for help because there was
No fucking point
And no one would blink an eye if I said a thing.
So when I fucking die,
Don’t act so goddamn innocent
Because you’re the reason why
I’m dead.
And I don’t know what the hell I have to do to get some
Help
So I don’t die.
I don’t want to die.
But I don’t know what else to do.
There’s no point in living
If I’m not happy
And this isn’t an issue that will get better as time passes.
And if it does, then it won’t be worth it,
Because it will be a long time
A very long time
It won’t be worth it, either.
Nothing is worth the things that I feel
And what I have to do to get better.
Cutting is my only friend.
It releases my inspiration when my creativity
Is as dead as I wish I could be.