Outcast. This one word described my life better than any other. No one wanted to be around me, no one even wanted me around at all. I knew it. I could see it in their eyes. The fire burning in the looks they gave me was unsettling. I didn't even have to ask to know they couldn't stand to be around me. I didn't even know why. Why do they hate me so much? Everyone else hating me is bad enough, imagine it when even you turn against yourself.
It can't even be understood, what it's like to hate yourself. It's uncomprehendable. Everyone has a moment, a moment when they realize that their life isn't worth it anymore. I've had that moment so many times, I can't keep count anymore. Every second I'm alive is a second that I've debated. I've spent many nights alone in my room, just thinking, wondering. Wondering why. Why am I here? Why am I still alive? The most frequently asked question, though, is Why can't I just do it? Just kill myself like everyone wants me to.
