I finally figured out my purpose in life. To fuck up. Thats all I ever do. I fuck up. I make people leave. I hurt people.
He told me it wasn't my fault, but I know it is. He hurt himself right after I broke up with him, and he told me it wasn't my fault.
I'm not a fucking kid. I'm not stupid, okay? I'm trying to be responsible and take responsibility for the shit I do, and you won't let me.
I told you once that I wasn't prepared for a relationship, but I tried for one with you a second time around and it still went to shit. I acted like I was fine when in reality it was eating away at my soul.
My best friend is dead. Why? I don't know, and it'd be better if I don't find out. My heart hurts. She promised me and she broke it. She was perfect, and she never saw it. She was talented, and she recognized it.
She was the rock in my life. She told me I looked beautiful dressed up as either a guy or a girl, and she made me so happy.
Now I've snapped.
I'm not okay. I'm hurt. I'm broken so far beyond repair that I can't trust the people I was in a relationship with. I hate it. I hate this feeling of absolute hopelessness and numbness at one time. I hate feeling like I can't go to anyone with these problems because I know I'm just a burden to them. People are awful. Every person is. You can be the nicest fucking person ever, and you'd still be an abomination in my eyes. That's just how I am. :)
