A Letter

I can't feel sorry anymore. I'd say I'm sorry for all this, but that'd be a lie. I'd say that I wish that none of this ever happened, that you never saw any of this, but it wouldn't change the past. If I could, I'd atone. But I'm too far gone to be saved. I only stayed alive because you wanted me to. And that's just not enough reason. I need a better one to stay with everyone in the midst of all this pain, this agony. I can't get myself to look past it though, and most days I fear that it's impossible for anyone at all to get through life. But then I look at you, and I realize that that's not true. It's just me, all alone in the abyss. Sure, you're willing to reach a hand out and drag me out of the darkness, but through all of your hope you're missing one important fact. You can't reach me anymore. You can't get rid of all this darkness, free me from my demons, because I am my demons. I am the reason I hate the world. I am the cause of all of this, the countless nights huddled under my sheets in misery, the cuts on my arm. I am the reason that instead of saying hi to me tomorrow, you'll hear from someone that they found me on the bathroom floor, bleeding out. I am the reason that you'll hate me forever, for doing this and everything else. And I'm the reason that this story has to end. Here. Now.
Yours Sincerely
Someone You Never Really Knew