Where is it written down?

Lately, I've been thinking. Looking for a reason, why should i live. No luck at the moment, althou figured something out. It's not written down that, I HAVE to live. nowhere. There is only this social pressure to keep on goin', cause killing yourself is socially frowned on. The people closed  to you get hurt for a while. but nobody sees the hurt you're in daily. So, What do you do in this case? Crack under the pressure and end it? or suffer in silence and become disconnected from everybody else. Not being able to care about others nor yourself. Hating waking up every morning.

I got in trouble for the daily mask i wear to work and now i'm thinking that i shouldn't wear it anymore. Not sure how they feel about the real me. They don't know the dark side of the mask. I don't even like it, but i can't avoid the dark side. I can only make it so others don't see this side of me.

My thoughts are getting worse and worse everyday. I'm really struggling with the idea of living. My dreams are faint and pointless. I've lost all enjoyment of life. Things that excited me before, don't offer any satisfaction nor glimpses of hope. There seems to no other escape then death. BUT... as i said before, I can't do it. It would be unfair and cruel for the people around me. Some might blame each other or themself or try to find a reason. There is no bigger reason than i just don't feel like i should be here, i have no purpose, no satisfaction, there is no happiness for me. So, i continue to suffer in silence and hopefully nobody can see thru it all.

My nightmares are getting worse and worse. They are violent, bloody and for the wrong reasons make me feel better. They shouldn't. Killing others in your dreams shouldn't make you feel better. Having blood on your hands in your dreams shouldn't make you feel better. They are so real, i fear that one day, something will push me over and i wont be able to make a difference between my dreams or real life. I don't wanna hurt people, but the hurt and anger in me grows like a bamboo stick.

*Real change doesn't come from laws or agreements*

Obsessed with work, obsessed with family, obsessed with ourselves. A worthless compulsion that enslaves us and limits our capabilities, leading us to fear what we don't understand.