clinical depression is not a tumor, but it'll make you wish it was

The bed smells as if someone's been in there too long.
Someone means you.
Oi, get out of my dreams!
I hate your stupid fake pretencious british accent.
Fuck, you're always spoiling my few good hours of sleep.
No, I'm not. You are. I'm here because you let me in.
I'm not exactly proud of that.
There's really nothing to be proud of. You tell people all your secrets,
even the ones you invent to make your life look interesting.
I tell other people's secrets too.
Yes, I was going to mention that. You talk too much.
Well, that's of no use with you, is it? You never hear.
You wouldn't know, would you? You never let anyone else speak.
...
...
You know what? I'm done playing this game with you. 
Let me sleep my fucking hours.
...
'Cause you're always fucking accusing me and I'm so tired of you.
...
You don't even know my reasons. You don't even know me, but act like you do.
...
I hate myself. I'm so lonely. I want to die.
There's no reason to keep on living, and worse,
there never was.
...
I wish I knew how to end all this.
I wish I had the courage.
I'm glad you don't.