I love my best friends so damn much, i can't leave them. But my issue is, they don't consider me their best friend. They don't understand. They secretly dislike me. But I love them. I wouldn't mind, though, if I just happen to be hit by a car and die.
"Whenever I have a good few months and I think I've gotten over the worst of my depression, it silently returns. This isn't a battle I asked to fight. I'm tired of knowing it's always coming back." I feel like this exactly