German Version [pastebin.com]

Everyone tells her how bad cutting is, how bad the scars look, but no one ever tells her that she's not alone in this world. No one shows her that they worry about her. No one shows her the world, no one gets her out of her room, no one ever takes her into their arms to show her that she doesn't have to stand through all this on her own. They all only care about her looks, what she shows them, because no one ever thinks about how others might feel. Only her looks count, only what she shows counts.

She says she wants to commit suicide, she shows everyone her scars, but everything she gets back is that people tell her that she's only craving for attention. But no one thinks about her emotions, no one thinks that exactly this might be the point, that someone shows her that she matters, as persons, and not her looks. They all say it's only for attention, however, no one actually gives her the attention, because no one cares. No one thinks about how bad the person must be feeling when she's going this far to get attention. And it all ends in suicide, and everyone is shocked. Or acts like they're shocked anyway. She told everyone she would do it, told everyone when and where. But no one came to stop her. Because no one ever took her seriously. No one listened to her. No one understood her, no one cared, and so she took her own life, her friends only meters away.

She asks herself „Why me?“ over and over and hates herself for becoming so weak again, hates herself for crying, hates herself for thinking like she does, hating herself for cutting, hates herself for bothering her friends with it, hates herself for her suicidal thoughts, hates herself for being depressed, hates herself for being her.

But as I am writing all these textes, I realized something: No one will ever understand how I feel, no one will ever understand why I am the way I am, no one besides me. And that's okey. People don't have to understand me, they only have to accept me. But that's not the whole truth after all, because I can't trust people with my emotions if they won't understand them anyway. That's why I am asking myself: Why? Why am I here? Why didn't I take the chance and quit?
A good friend once told me that I am here because I want to live, and I too think that I want to live, but I don't want to live with these emotions and this pain. I don't even know what I am doing. I am writing this document, which probably won't ever be read, so why am I writing this? Maybe I just need someone to listen to me, someone to understand me, even if it is myself. Maybe I just need to talk about my feelings & vent my feelings but am so alone that I am forced to tell my PC? I don't know. I am feeling like I don't know anything anymore, anything at all. My brain isn't empty, but I am unable to describe my feelings properly, I can't explain them to anyone who didn't feel the same way before.
And my life will probably soon be ended by myself and if someone finds this document because I used it as goodbye letter, or just found it while searching for a goodbye letter, let me tell you one thing: Stop. Stop judging others. Everyone does what they think is right. Stop looking away. Look into the faces of people you come across. I cried so often in public, but no one noticed. And if you're asking yourself now „should I worry about every person I come across? Never stop worrying?“ then the answer is YES, YOU SHOULD! Every person around you could be suffering from depression and is just hiding it, but not because they actually want to hide it, but because they're scared of being misunderstood, being hurt even further, being judged. Be understanding, and if you don't understand, inform yourself, talk to the person until you understand. Because the worst sin of humanity is not murder, it's ignorance.

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