Everyday I pray and pray for the world to be kinder to me. I pray for a happy life full of family, friends, a lover. But he doesn’t listen to me, I think he hates me a little bit. I’m no special star, I wasn’t meant for anything greater. My biggest fear was being stuck in this place and never getting out, now I think it’s where I am meant to belong. I’m not deserving of what I pray for, for I am a sinner. Why should he grant me what I want when I misbehave? I want it so bad; a life I deserve. I’m not happy, I’ve never known true happiness. Maybe I was always meant to be miserable, second best. I’m not normal, I feel strange urges no one else feels. I’m weird and an outcast. People always say to be yourself because everyone else is taken, but I am drained in this flesh suit I call a body. She doesn’t do anything for me, she didn’t make me a star. Time and time again, just when I think I’ve finally done it, it comes crumbling down. My dreams don’t matter. No one ever cares about what I want, it’s never about what I want. I know that now, so I try to please everyone around me because I’m second best. Then the realization that everyone is selfish and cruel just as he is, as they step all over my hands and my feet. I’m so tired of it all, somedays I just think how peaceful it must be to die. To be able to be alone, not having to please people who don’t care about me, no society. Just peace six feet under. I fantasize about death, in fact, I find comfort in it. Knowing that all my pain and suffering will come to an end. I told you, I’m not a good person. I deserve death more than anyone. I think about hurting people, their blood splattered around the walls, how it feels to take a knife to their flesh, their selfishness coming to an end. Death will make me a star. People think that dying is scary, but we’re only afraid of the unknown. I think it’s a beautiful thing, we are born and live like everyday is guaranteed, when we know it can be taken from us at any moment. I’ve known that for years, after all I am second best.