It absolutely positively sucks to be me at night. At night those awful thoughts come out...thoughts about loneliness, and lack of love, and death...and suicide. They plague me and refuse to leave until my eyes close...which they hardly ever do. When morning comes they only see what remains of my sleepless nights...my bundled up energy that I create in 5 seconds flat by just putting a smile on my face. And they think she's normal, she has problem...but everybody has problems too. I get the feeling that's not true, I have more problems than you.
Right now I just finished arguing with 'friends' about them calling me inappropriate names. Inappropriate names that make me feel like a whore, a slut, abused. I hate it. Can't stand it. Before that I argued with mother by marriage about my inappropriate behaviour. Hate the bitch. Can't stand the bitch nowhere. And even more before that I had my friends screaming with CAPS LOCK on about their troubles, troubles i got them through. Without them even asking "Girl, how are you?"
My house is a mess, filled with disgrace. Daddy doesn't care. Stepma says I don't belong here. Money can't even buy food these days. And it's their house, not mine. I live nowhere, nothing belongs to me. All my friends are busy with their own lives, so I can stay on the backburner for a while. When they catch me it'll be too late.
The only reason I'm up this late and writing all this nonsense tonight that probably won't make one ounce of sense tomorrow, is because I'm lonely. I'm so lonely that I could cry. I am crying. I'm stuck in a world where relationships maketh the man, and I don't have one. I have so much to offer, but no to offer it to...because no one wants it. But I can never figure out why. I miss the old and can't wait for the new; until then I must sit and be content with me.
When they created this site, they thought of me. Because blogging for a suicidal woman with a gift of words is like a lethal drug. I'm about to die.