006

I want to cut. I would really just like to take a razor and slit my wrist down to the bone. I want to feel nothingness. I yearn for sleep, and hate waking up. If death is like dreaming, I wish I would die. So that I may dream forever. Dream a happy life in which everything goes right for me. I don’t know why I bother living anymore. Really I don’t. My future looks tremendously bleak. Nothing to look forward to, only things to dread. The death of loved ones, the pain and agony of growing old. Nothing good. The “best days of my life” are over. Gone. Wasted, but hiding away in this room, shoving greasy foods down my throat and adding on the pounds. Pushing people away, weirding people out. It’s kind of what I do. Crying in the dark. Cutting, never deep enough. Only scratches that bleed a little. They scab. But nothing more. The easy times are over and I really just don’t want to live anymore. At all. I just really don’t. I’d like to kill myself, and stay this way forever. Never knowing the disappointment of adulthood. Why does anyone bother, I don’t get it. There is no point. Maybe I’m just not ready to grow up, but I would rather die right now that become an adult, and see my parents die. The only people who have to love me. Everyone else can pass you along, lie, cheat. Parents are really the only ones who truly have your good at heart. After them, there’s no one. No one but yourself. And then your truly alone in the world. It would have been much easier to be an orphan, strung along from family to family, never becoming attached to any of them. It’d be easier.

I want someone to hit me. To tell me I’m worthless. To tell me what a worthless piece of shit I am. I think if someone told me, each and every day, how fat I am, I would lose weight. If someone told me what they really think of me each morning, I would be thin. I would be pretty. And my life would be easier. My chest wouldn’t feel so heavy. I wouldn’t cry all the time. If someone t this damn house gave me a hug every once and a while, I might be a little happier as well. I only get those twice a month, when I go to my moms. I should never have left her. I should never have left the people who hug me like they are actually excited to see me, who kiss my cheeks and squeeze me and tell me they love me. I don’t get that here. Maybe because my dad doesn’t want his new bitch to be jealous. That’s the only thing I’ll be glad about; being away from that bitch. I won’t have to see her face each day, and that in and of itself is uplifting. I’m kind of glad my parents got divorced; it means I’ll always have an escape. When I’m feeling suffocated, I can go to my dad. If I’m feeling lonely and ignored/hated, go to my mom’s. I just hate that she’s alone in that big house. It breaks my heart, because it’s my fault. All my fault. I wish I was with her. I really do. I want to lay in bed with her rubbing my back and singing to me or reading me a story. I want her to make me tea when I’m sick and actually give a damn when I feel like shit. I feel like I missed out, because I didn’t have a mom in the years that I needed on the most. I know I’ll regret it later in life. I regret it now. I just wish I could make it up to her. I want to take a year off before college and live with her. Take care of her. Become close with her again. Like back when it was just me and her. I deserved to be alone in life, because I made her be alone. I made her be alone, so I deserve to be alone too. I should have stayed with her despite what I wanted. I could have been happier there. Less drama. Would have been the smartest one there. I would have had my damn mom. Sad. I’m just really sad. All the time. Because I have no friends, I’m probably going to spend all summer with my mom. My dad will be pissed, as despite whether he wants to admit it or not, he’ll miss me being here. I want to kill myself. I really want to die.