I'm sorry.
I've lied to you.
I don't think I'm okay.
Maybe I just want to be broken.
I shouldn't be happy that I skipped dinner but I am. I don't like eating. People tend to think of me as a food lover but honestly when they're not around I eat hardly nothing.
I think I've given my love for not eating to my friend which is horrible because it just makes me realize how much of a disease I am.
I want to run away. I always do. I can never be happy in one place. Once I've seen how much I've tainted someone, I just want to let it all go.
I don't believe in love. Not for me. I ruin my relationships too easy. Between my friends and family, I'm better off without anyone anyway.
All I do is hurt people.
I can't fix things.
I ignore all my probblems.
Sometimes I just want to die.
But I think
No
That's not what I want.
I just wish I never existed.
I feel so empty. Like my capacity to love and feel had been gutted out. I just want to prove to people that I can be human but all I've got is blood streaming through my veins.
No heart.
No brain.
I'm a big lump of nothing.
My friends are always telling my how dumb I am and how bad of a friend I am.
I wish I were invisible.
I wish I had no one to talk to.
That I wasn't expected to carry a conversation or remember birthdays or help them when they need help.
I'm selfish.
Whenever someone rants about their problems I can only think of mine.
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
When will I ever get out of my stupid head?
I just want to go home. Real home. I find myself saying that even when I am there.
The truth is, being here breaks me. Not being home. I feel so excluded. I hardly talk at dinner. I stay in my room all day every day. I only eat food when they make me. I stop being productive because I fear too much of what they say. Of what I say.
Why did the stars put me here?
I'm a blinking mess of matter dangling on a broken string just waiting to go home.
I think that's what we're all doing.
Waiting to go home.
I don't want to live anywhere.
I don't want to be anywhere.
I want to crack. I want to stop myself from being an unfertile egg people will scramble. I'm hidden beneath my shell, always at the moment between seeing a different world and staying in my comfort zone.
Sometimes I wish I cared about changing in front of my friend. Then I'd be able to hide what I want to do to my body. I already can't change in gym class. I'm that pathetic wimp who changes in the bathroom.
I hate my body.
I want to burn.
I want to fall into ashes, never to come back again.
Or maybe I'd like to be a phoenix.
So I could always be different when I arrived.
I deserve a painful death.
Facing reality is like having a truck ram into you.
I've been in a car crash before. I remember it like the glass shattering and my hair being thrown in front of me. I couldn't get up. And when I woke up I'd see that the windows never broke and that we were all fine. But my mom would say that my step dad saved us. That he hit the breaks just at the right time.
