This is why I go to fiction. To run from reality.

I remember a time when I felt worthless and had passive suicidal thoughts, thinking that even if I disappeared...nobody would really care, or that it might make the people around me feel guilty for taking me for granted. I talked about it with my housemates. They said they didn't want to die but wanted to be hospitalised, just to see who truly cared about them. I replied that I didn't think anyone would care, even if I were hospitalised. The hospital and gallery scene brought tears to my eyes...as I found myself hoping that someone would do the same for me, even though I knew it was almost impossible. ╥﹏╥