Am I a liar? For grinning at everyone who looks at me?

 I haven’t cried like that in a while…

When I’m so ridiculously sad that the tears literally start pouring down my cheeks before I even slam the front door shut behind me.

I don’t really pay attention to where I walk, I just walk, I stumble down the dark streets open-mouthed and crying.

I sometimes wish there would be someone I could run to, someone who would see me alone in the streets with a hand clutching at my heart and another pushing my hair back as I sob.

Not the ugly, wail sobs. The shoulders bunching together and collapsing, throat burning, shaking like a leaf type of sobbing.

I know what my eyes look like and it shames me..

My eyebrows knit together and my eyes are narrowed and dilated. Why am I always so confused when I’m hurt? I let people down when I cry. All of my friends who think I’m just some normal girl who’s strong (I hate that word now- strong) and never cries and has no reason to. I feel so terrible when it happens. I want to die because I hate looking so miserable. I hate looking in the mirror and seeing some emotionless-looking girl. I wish I had a better looking smile. It feels wrong to me, like I lost the muscles to pull my lips into a smile. When I grin, it feels wrong, unusual, deformed.

I wish I could help everyone. I wish that my dad, when he hurts me, I wish it would take his pain away, that he could be happy for once. I wish he would smile more, that his boss will give him a raise, and his co-workers could climb off his back. I wish some stupid miracle would pull him out of debt and that everything in our house would stop breaking because we can’t afford to fix it. I wish he’d stop thinking about my on-coming death or my dog’s weak immune system. I wish he’d not bad mouth my mother so often.

I wish my brother would come off his addiction, his obsession, his drug. I wish he wouldn’t hate me for talking to him. I wish he didn’t have such a disgusting psychotic state. I wish he would smile more.

I wish my mom would be content with the money she’s getting, that she’d stop being so cynical about everything. I wish she would smile more.

I wish my sister would smile more.

I don’t have anyone to talk to except for posting useless idiocy on Facebook to make it seem like I have a life. (Now that I say it, it sounds stupid. Facebook isn’t any way to live. Maybe I should quit that, too.)




I hope I die soon.




I wish that whenever there’s a girl around (or a boy) who’s lost in pain and utterly hopeless near me…that my heart would beat faster and I could find them and wrap my arms around them and hold them tightly because their life depends on it.

Someone once told me that two birds with broken wings can’t learn to fly together.


Fuck that.

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.