Thoughts ( I don't suggest reading this, it's probably boring)

Just ranting and stuff. But it's not like I'm sending out an invite, so nobody will read this anyway. I just need to vent about stuff.

Chapter 1

12/5/12

Well, not even the person I thought would always love me anymore loves me. And that is my dog. Wow, I am pathetic. But everything is driving me insane right now. I can't even think straight. With is why of course I am typing this. I hope no one reads it. But I am making it public though, because I am too lazy to write everything down and it is easier to hide somthing like this from my parents. To anyone reading this, if anyone ever does, this isn't going to make sense and it will probably be boring. But it's just my mangled messed up brain. Well, anyway, my parents are driving me insane again. Well, my mom. Oh my god, I am freaking furious at her right now. She is the cause of everything that's happend. I want to be act furious and throw things and yell and sceam, but I can't. It would make me too vulnerable. And that's no good. I hate being vulnerable. Even my friend said, it's like I have a veil over my heart(her words, not mine.) But, expressing emotion is dangerous. People can use it against you. I think I have some anger issues though. I can get furious at the slightest things. I never show it of course, but it's there and it drives me insane. Ha, I always seem to get mad when I am doing dishes. conveinetly enough. It takes all of my limited self control not to break everything I touch and not to yelll and cuss out the soap. It sounds stupid and trivial huh? Well, I can't help it. In my mind, emotions are the enemy. No, scratch that, I am the enemy. You know that saying, "know thine enemy"? Well, I know mine extremly well, and I hate her so much. People say self hatred is bad. I have to agree of course. It's dangerous. There's nothing the person can do to stop it. But, I belive that everybody has at least a bit of self hatred. We are human after all. Mostly anyway. But, if you hate yourself enough, you start to not care any more. About anything. You start to tell yourself you're not worth it. I've gotten there. And it's kinda scary. Like I have no control anymore. Nothing matters, not school, not my family, not my future, not myself. I have no motivation to stop myself from doing something that could end badly. Erin says I should keep a journal. I've never really liked the idea, but I guess this is sort of a journal right? Well, I suppose it does feel good. Kinda like talking to someone. I can't really talk to anyone anymore. There aren't people that I really trust. I don't like keeping this all to myself though. It's hard. And it just bottles up inside me until I am bursting at the seams. No onw knows the real me, not even my closest friends. But I guess I am afriad to show them. It scares me. I am afriad to even know my real me, the monster behind my continuous mask if you want to get all poetic and crap. Well, "poetic crap' is good sometimes. Sometimes metaphors aren't as scary as the real thing. Ha, look at me, I am pathetic. Scared of practically everything. Like a freaking mouse. Oh well. If you think about it, the world is terrifying. And we are just tiny specks that could be eaten up at any moment. We could die at any moment. So insignificant in the big picture. Sometimes, I question my existance. Is it even worth it? It's like Shakespeare says, in Hamelt, " To be, or not to be: that is the question." Through out the whole thing, he says, to exist, or not to exist, that is the question. Is it better to fight everything that life throws at you, or to end it all at once? Dying and sleeping aren't much different, they both end the pain that we have to go through. Hamelt is basically in the same place a lot of us are in, he's questioning his existance, and if it's even worth it to be alive. In one part he says, "when he might his quietus make with a bare bodkin?" He's saying, " why would a person go through all the pain of life when he could so easily end it with his own knife?" Hamelt was one of Shakespeare's most intelligent characters, and I think one of the most relatable. Right now, I am like Hamlet. Right now, I am tired. Physically and emotionally. I am tired of lying, tired of living. My whole life is a lie, these past couple years have been nothing but lies. Lies to my family, my friends, myself. I am sick of hiding myself just to please other people. I am sick of pretending to be happy all the time when truthfully all I want is to cry. But I won't let myself do that. Not yet. For now, I will carry on, and continue this on- going battle with myself.

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