Why do I continue to carry on my sorry excuse of a life? The depression is eating me alive but I still appear the happiest girl around, the one who always smiles and is the first to call when you're sad because she will always drop everything and be there. People tell me to just get over it, and that the people who put me down are idiots, but if they walked in my shoes for even a day, they would know that was nearly impossible. If only they knew what my life had consisted of, so many weekends alone, being called ugly every single day of your life, never feeling beautiful, having that feeling that you don't fit in in this world, that you will never belong, that you should just kill yourself, just like they tell you to. Just like they want. Maybe one day I will give up, but I won't give up without a fight.
