Dear who ever will listen or cares enough to read:
Before I start, I would like to point out the fact I am not an attention seeker. I just want someone to know, after all of this time. I hate to sit here and complain, but I think I am overdue for a little venting.
First off, I pretty much hate everything about me. I don’t know why. I don’t understand it myself. I cut myself at night. I just get up and I get that blade I broke off of that razor and I slice it through my skin. I do it over and over until I know I should stop. Until I make myself stop. I have to for several reasons. One, Scars. I have several. But I cut my leg, because I would never let a single living soul know what I do. (Unless it’s anonymous, of course)Two, what would people think? Really. I mean, I can’t hide those cuts all of the time. But I have to. I have no choice.
Also, I’ll starve myself for days, until I just can’t stand it anymore. I’m not even big. I just want to be that size 0 everyone loves. I’m a 3. It sort of works out, because I like that pain it gives me. Until I eat of course, then I feel like the fattest oaf to walk to planet.
I had a suicide pact. We would have done it. But you found out. That person knows who he/she is. Then it was no more.
I know you hate me, Mother. You have told me several times who your true favorite is. You never had any shame in admitting it. Something I will never understand. And when you found my journal, the one place I could truly say what I needed to, why did you tell me to kill myself? I was in enough pain. I didn’t need you to say that. I needed you to care, like any other mother would have. (And I do love you. Even though I said otherwise. Also it would be appreciated if you would stop leaving us.)
Oh, and my brother. He used to come into my room every night. Every. Single. Night. And I can’t stand to see him now. I can’t stand for people to touch me. I can’t stand for him to pretend like it didn’t happen.
And yeah, I’m a flirt. I lead guys on all of the time. And just when someone likes me, I can’t stand it. I hate it. So much. I hate someone can like me, when I can’t even like me. How is that possible?
If only you could see me. Not for my benefit, but so you can see how screwed up any normal teenager can be. I’m attractive. People like me. I’m a cheerleader. I can make people like me. Like who I am. Or at least, who I play. And on the outside, my family looks pretty prefect too. Really. We are all nice and sweet to each other in public. We live in a nice house. One wouldn’t think so many problems are under the roof as there are.
Sorry if this sounds so angry. Sorry if this hurts someone. Sorry if this has any affect on you. But it was something I needed to say. I can’t continue to go to sleep like this every night, just pretending everything is okay. But, that’s what I have to do. Really, What are my other options?
I tell someone, my parents hate me. As imperfect as they seem to be, they don’t seem to be so accepting to my flaws.
Then what? I leave me family? Get placed somewhere I have never been? As if. I would hate that more than here.
And then again, everyone, not every day is a living Hell.
Just most of them..