"Dear Diary"

"We all have our own great expectations,
Those big dreams and giant aspirations.
We hope to grow into what we set out to be.
We hope we never come to find true tragedy.
It won't be me that dies in a wreck at seventeen.
It won't be me that drinks from an alcohol-filled canteen.
Perhaps I will go to Harvard, maybe Yale.
It is preposterous to believe I will ever fail."
I sit down my diary from when I was eight.
Only to realize I am that person I hate.
When did it happen, how can I survive?
Knowing I don't deserve the right to be alive.
I thought I had all a person could ever hope for or dream,
But these drugs have made me so sick I wish I could scream.
I am eighteen today and am missing my prom,
I turned eighteen today, yet still live with my mom.
There is no way I can support this baby.
What was I thinking? I must be crazy.
I have no job, no high school degree.
Nobody will ever want to higher me.
For the sake of my child, and maybe myself,
I will bring pain upon me; end the rest of my health.
The migraines are still here and bursting my head.
I think this is for the best. I shall soon be dead.