they hate me, yet I still try to be nice to them. They piss me off constantly, but I can never do anything about them. They bully me to no extent, yet they never add the finishing blow. My hatred builds and builds, but it's almost all directed towards myself. 'what's wrong with me? I'm ugly, stupid, weird, awkward, and To fucking quiet.' Every time I look in the mirror I see a fat, ugly wimp instead of what others see, which must be lies. There is no one alive that I will believe when they say I'm handsome, not even my own mom. I stopped believing that year's ago. I keep to myself so no one else can hurt me. My only friends found out I cut only recently, and I found out my best friend, who I would happily die for, did it to. I may not be alone, but my hatred and sadness is greater than his, or anyone whom I've met. There are a few exceptions to that though. Every time my mom asks me what's wrong I'll say nothing, and she knows something's up. I hate having my relatives ask that, because there's no way to explain it. Life in general is what's wrong. And I don't want to be in life anymore
