This is a sob from me to anyone who cares to listen. Because blurs behind a foreign screen are easier to face right now than my friends.
So I discovered it. Yesterday. The March 27, 2008. I would have written this yesterday but when you're crying yourself to sleep it's not the best time to node.
So here it is, for anyone to read. I am a bitch. A cruel, cynical bitch who hates everyone, and who everyone hates. I like rainy days because then I don't have to feel bad about being sad.
People jokingly say they hate me, they call me the devil-child, but joke or not eventually you can't draw the line and you can't tell who means it and who doesn't. So perhaps everyone hates me, perhaps I am impossible to talk to and to like. I'm sweet sixteen, never been kissed, and maybe that's a good thing, maybe that just means that I'm weird and no one really likes me.
What it really boils down to is that I hate myself, because I've always thought that I was a nice person, but maybe I'm not and laugh all you like but everyone wants to be liked, and shown that they are liked, by someone more than their mother.
It's as though everyone else has read some manual on how to be happy and live and have lots of friends and to always be smiling, but I must have missed out because I think I'm getting it all wrong.
It's probably just me pushing myself away, but I feel as though no one else really understands and I should really be talking to my friends and people that I actually know about this, but I'm trying to explain it to one of my friends now and she's not getting it. I don't want someone to say "I understand" and I don't want hugs and sad little smiles that are meant to make me feel better.
Okay, so I don't really know what I want, but I don't want that. Its not that I think its insensitive, but they try to understand, but I get the feeling that they just don't get it and even though I obviously wasn't having a great day (try the worst fucking day of my life) they didn't come over to me and ask what was wrong and even try to offer a hug and understanding words. Maybe I'm blaming them more than I should be, I'm the fault, maybe, by being awful and impossible to be around, but I don't even know if I'm that.
I shouldn't be sitting here typing away in an effort to make you understand because I don't even know you, but you don't exist, not really, because you're just words on a screen.
And if I don't tell someone who can at least pretend to understand then maybe nothing ever happened, maybe the tears are fake and my life is just shit in my mind.
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