Why the fuck am I hurting myself like this?
Oh yeah, I hate myself. (Just in case you forgot.)
I hate how everything in my life I've fucked up. EVERYTHING
Okay, I have a highschool diploma and a university degree (barely), but what am I doing with them? Nothing.
What am I doing with my life? Nothing.
I am sitting here, rotting away in this shelter, waiting for someone to want me like some kind of stray animal. *cries more*
Fuck fuck fuck.
I wish Adam was online, but he doesn't want to hear this anymore than you or anyone else.
And so I keep it all inside, more than you know.
More than you'll ever know.
Because even just this little bit hurts you enough.
And it's my pain. I have to deal with it.
Fuck. I don't know if you really want to see me on Saturday, Ian. I'll probabaly just cry my heart out like the last 2 times you saw me.
Fuck fuck fuck.
I want to die.
Or start over.
I wish I could start over.
I'd give anything to start over.
If life were like a Choose Your Own Adventure book, I'd go back to... many years. I'd be John's daughter, and not Ted's, and my grandfather would be alive long enough to see me born; long enough to have infant-hood memories of him. And my aunt wouldn't have cancer and my uncle wouldn't molest me, and I wouldn't have broken anyone's heart and things would have worked out and I wouldn't hate myself and screw things up.
There's more, but it's not as important as those things.
I hurt so fucking much and can't tell anyone. (like, I can tell you, but you cannot possibly fully comprehend. I am, afterall, crazy.)