I try to make friends, look pretty, so on and so forth, but really...
I consider myself fat, ugly. I'm drifting away from the only people who have ever cared enough to talk to me. But those people only did it cause they pity me.
There's nothing ideal about my personality, my looks, my intelligence or abilities.
This all brings me back to February. I wanted to die. I asked my Mum on a daily bases, why did you even have me? I don't want to die, I just wish I was never born.
We would both cry because that. She's convinced I'm god's gift to people, that I'm worth everything, but I'm nothing.
I'm a pile of shit.
I haven't even been alive for all that long, but I know every day of my existence was a mistake. I wish to be dead.
Or maybe, one day I'll be perfect. I'll get thin, have a shit ton of plastic surgery, I wont have a speech impediment, I'll be able to maintain friendships and relationships, I'll be happy.
Haha. Bull-fucking-shit.
Even then, I'll still be unhappy. I'll be nothing.
It's always something with me... if my Mum loves me so much, why does she treat me so badly? I have a feeling that, if I did drop dead, she would get over it quickly. Just another one of her miscarriages.
I'm stupid, ugly, terrible terrible terrible.
It constantly feels like the ceiling is pressing down on me.
Right now, the only thing keeping me sane is your voice, your existence. There's no way in hell I'll ever talk to you, let alone be able to hug you, be wrapped in your bony embrace... the age difference. I'm stupid for even thinking about you. I want to be with you and be you at the same time. I don't understand.
I want to get over this mood. I don't think I will anytime soon, though.
