Love for me?

I believe it impossible now, for anyone to possibly love me.No, this isn’t a sob story, not at all. It’s merely a thought stretched out. A thought that I’ll say was reality knocking me down again.
I tried to love this boy because he was alone, so alone and hateful and sad and depressed. I saw him for what he was and I reached out, I thought I could help. Next thing I know we’re two birds in a tree, chilling together, enjoying each other.
And then he said he loved me.
And I was frozen in this moment where I couldn’t say that I loved him back. I wanted to, so bad, but I knew I couldn’t because I was possibly still in love with a boy that I broke up with almost a year ago.
So I told him that all I had for him was lust, not love, but eventually it changed and I felt something for him. And he was so convinced he was unloved by the world, no one could ever, /ever/ be with him.
So I told him he was loved. He asked me if I loved him, I said yes, I love you, I said.
And today, this day after, I was thinking and thinking and I was trapped in my own fucking prison. The prison of my mind.
I thought about how I felt when all the sudden, the boy who convinced me that he was in love with me for months, and I him, that boy who suddenly fell out. Who “died”. What if really, he only told me he loved me so I wouldn’t fell so fucking /alone/.
I couldn’t allow what happened to me to happen to this New boy.
So I told him that I didn’t want to hurt him, and that I’m leaving. Just like that.
And I want to die.
I don’t even wait for the other boy anymore, he’s too much like me, too uncaring, too hurt, too depressed.
And so is this boy, it’s all the same.
And I can’t do this anymore.
I’m going to stop trying.
I have no will to survive.
Let my sickness kill me.

FUCK SOCIETY

[6:00:54 PM] tHeMaGnIfIcEnTePiToMeOfFuCk: Good. At least you can see through the fucking veil put over eyes by society. I wish everyone would stop caring about what others think. Stop being so damn serious and stop getting so upset over /nothing/. Chill out and kick back and take a fucking BREAK from stressing. Look around themselves and count their blessings instead of LOOKING for pain and trouble and hurtful things. Sure Im a goddamn hypocrite. I don't care what  others think of me, I don't care about myself at fucking all, but I do care about others. I DO care how they live their life and how they're affecting others.

Just.

 When you two-three wake up I want you to look in the mirror and smile--AND THEN HOLD IT, don't just suddenly frown at yourself and wander off all depressed! Smile and smile and make a funny face, and then walk away laughing.

And I know most of you have hard lives, very hard lives, and even if your life isn't hard, there are some complications that can be very difficult on you emotionally, but for some reason, even if I can't see you or hear you...Even if I haven't met you face-to-face...I care if you're happy. I will be off at my friend's house or at the movies with my father, and I will be thinking about -everyone- wondering how you're doing right now.

Hoping you're dreaming of peace and happiness.

I do think a lot, every second of the day my mind produces five different thoughts that I can either grab hold of or let wander.

My imagination is so damn intense that if I think about someone stabbing me I'll feel it. And I will be so uncomfortable for the longest time.

It's not right, I know. Maybe I need medicine or therapy, but I don't care. I've been trying hard not to dwell on the troubles in my life because I've evaluated them for years and it's gotten me no where. So I look at others and pray to help -them-. I don't give a damn about myself anymore aside from one thing that I'm working on- saving my own life...Changing my path and hoping for the best, even though hoping has never really actually...well, worked for me.

But, listen, I absolutely enjoy hearing about your troubles, not in a sadistic way, but in a way that it takes my mind off of my sick imagination and stupid fantasies and my own hardships, and allows me to focus on YOU.

You guys are my greatest treasures, my most prideful accomplishments! That I was able to find humans so beautiful and unique and friendly and silly and funny and just a perfect -joy- to talk to! It just amazes me.

And I don't ever want to lose you three, so continue to talk to me, and continue to live your lives and hope for the best because maybe, since I'm hoping for your best, our hopes will add up and your lives will turn and you'll reach the top and actually feel complete and utter happiness and have everything you could ever hope to have (in a simple way, not like, a billion dollars) and then you'll just have a peaceful, downhill guidance from there.

Dear Father,

Who the hell are you to keep me from seeing my family? Why do you think you have the right to contain me in this hell-hole where there's nothing to see and do. You can't legally hold me here nor can you financially afford it or do -anything- with me here. Let me spend my days with my family who I haven't seen in over a year. You see me every day and every night so just suck it up and stop acting like the child you know you are. Oh, you were robbed of me for the past two summers? Wrong. I was here last summer, I chose to come back and all I got in return was being your damn slave. You suddenly care for me? This is me not caring for your crap anymore.

Who am I to cry?

To cry, to break under the world when I'm exactly the same as the monsters I hate.
I feel like everyone around me wants to die.
Everyone I know.
My father.
My mother.
My brother.
My friends.
My love.
They are all. Suicidal.

Under them, is where I break. Where I give up and crawl back into my little cave of fucking misery. Where I begin again, to ignore the world, to muffle it all into an eerie silence. Where I watch everything pass by and think to myself, talk to myself, philosophize with myself.

And it is in that cave, with their eyes watching me, where they break. And there starts the never ending cycle of hate and death. A father beats his daughter and she grows up to kill herself in front of her son, her son is bullied at school, he murders his bullies. The siblings of those victims become druggies, drunks, and ruin the lives of their future spouses, children. Those children end up orphans or victims of abuse, they grow up and give birth to children of Depression. Those children begin to eat away at the lives of everyone close to them, their friends, family, loves. Everyone is affected if those Children commit suicide. Their friends, family, loves, screwed up and take their anger out on those who caused the suicide. The world. And it never ends. Ever. A cycle of hate will always be stronger than the little ounce of temporary love splashed over the fucking gram.

I sit there and I scream under the pressure. I cry. I mourn the deaths and despise the ungrateful selfishness of those who decide to give it up, to fuck the world and shoot themselves, hang themselves, drug themselves. I sit there and I scream out my pain in observing the world. I voice my agony, that silent hurt I had been housing. And in the inside I want to just step out in front of a moving car. I want to die, too, I thought to myself. And then it dawned on me that I'm exactly the same as those breaking me. I am the broken breaker.