People ask me 'how are you?' That is the one question that I hate and that Everyone asks.
I can't answer with the truth so I come up with a lie. The lie of I'm Fine. I say I'm fine, but in my mind Fine means something else entirely for me.
Fine is an understatement.
Fine stands for:
Freaking out.
Insecure .
Nervous.
Emotional.
I am so tired of being such a worthless, useless, shitty, bitchy, ugly , stupid piece of shit.
I don't know how to say what I feel.
Life is a bitch.
The only way to cure this hurt is to die.
I have cut. Cutting doesn't do much but leave marks of the pain and the hurt. I still cut. The people that know this about me want me to stop. They don't understand how hard it is to stop something so addictive, something that helps you fight the pain, something that makes me feel like I am still alive, the only thing that gets my through the tough days.
The stress is to much. How can I act like everything is ok when my whole world is falling apart. No one knows how badly I screw up. I make mistakes. Everyone seems to judge me for every little thing I do, Wrong or right. My sister called me "useless", "ugly", "stupid", "bitchy", "worthless", "pile of shit" , and a "bitch." I take those names personally.
There is no way I can fight this anger, hate, and stress any longer. It's just to much. I can't stop cutting and hating my self. The hate from others makes me hate myself more. All the mistakes just keep piling up.
Someone once told me that my mistakes are just on 1 or 2 out of 10. The ten is, and I quote, "putting babies on spikes"
How can my mistakes only be a 1 or 2? People judged my mistakes as if they were a 9 or 10.
So are my mistake a 1, 2, 9, or 10. Who is the person to tell me?
