This is a little ( a lot) bit deep. those of the faint-hearted, beware :p
It wasn't too long ago that I started hating this world.
Hating it's people; hating me.
I'd stare at myself at the mirror and scowl, thinking, who'd ever look at that face on their own will. Who'd actually care.
I daydream a lot. About what would happen if one morning, the sun rose, and found that I no longer lived on the planet earth.Who would cry?
Who would care?
There's only three things that keep me on this earth today. four, actually.
my brother. my words. my parents. and my cat.
My cat. My fucking cat.
i wouldn't say i'm suicidal, per say. it's more like, i wish I wasn't here. I wish I wasn't born.
"I don't wanna die. Just sometimes wish i'd never been born at all"
Queen encompases my view on life, I suppose.
If humans couldn't feel pain, I'd be off this hell-hole before you could say, "no". not that you'd say that.
You're just a freaking reader. I'm nobody (sorry, breaking the 4th wall)
My way in life has dissapeared, you could say. I don't exactly care anymore. I cry myself to sleep, and then I hope to never wake up again. and when I do, i want to scream, I want to yell, "Just leave me alone already!"
I love crying, because it hurts. it hurts so bad, but yet, you aren't really attacking yourself like you would be if you were cutting wounds into your skin. when you're crying, your chest hurts. It begins to lack oxygen. And I love the feeling.
When I just squezze out all air in my lungs, and then don't breath. It hurts, and I like that. I know, weird, but it feels good to rid myself of the one thing that keeps me alive, if only for a couple of moments.
Have I ever harmed myself? That's personal. But I can't deny that my pale skin has been scratched by pointy objects enough times to make a difference. Not that you'd care. Not that you'd want to know.
Ah. My pale skin. Let's get onto the topic that all teenage girls are known for being insecure about; my body.
I'll start off by saying it repulses me. it's pale, flubby, greasy, hairy; disgusting in every way possible. But I won't force too much detail on you. You've probably got enough on your plate as it is. but let's talk about my inside of my body, the stuff that can't just be explained by simple teenage girl problems.
First off, I have scoliosis. Not bad, I must admit, but it ruins how I sit, how I walk, and it influences the pain I go through everyday, that a young 16 year-old shouldn't be going through. And then there's the fun thing called PCOS. A fun little disorder that makes the females reproductive organs malfunction. basically meaning: i'm going to have a fucking hard time fufilling my dream to be a mother and raise a family.
Whop-de-fucking-do. And now my body's out to get me and drag me from a good life, nto just the world and the people living inside it.
Am I getting better? I'd love to say so. That sounds amazing.
Do I ever see myself getting a tad bit better?
Now that's a different story.