Even if I can’t say anything to people I know, I should still get it out.

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Today, I’m not okay.

Read more …

Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so horrible.

Maybe that would mean that someone actually cares about me and I won’t be alone forever.

God damn, I need to get a hold of myself.

I’m sick of being like this, but I also like it, don’t I? If I didn’t like this, I would just stop feeling like this. Right?

Right.

Fuck.

Just fuck.

I screwed part of my life over.

Just fuck all this shit.

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Why can’t anyone love me?

pleymo1369:

First you’re like:

And then in your mind:

But I keep putting on a smile and optimistic act. I mean, a part of me actually is optimistic, but most of me just doesn’t want to live anymore. I just want to end it. I don’t want to deal with this anymore.

Death seems so easy, but it’s so permanent.

It doesn’t change the fact that I really want it, and I keep getting ignored by the one person who I need not to ignore me.

Fuck it. I think it might be another cutting night, otherwise it would be a night to end all nights, and I can’t do that just yet.

-To love and be loved by the same person for the rest of at least one of our lives.

-To have at least one child and give them a better life than I had.

-Do something helpful and meaningful.

-Enjoy what I do for the rest of my life.

-Be happy.

Are those so hard to ask for?

Probably…

I really just wish I would die. I’m too much of a puss to actually off myself, but still. I don’t wan to live how I am living right now.

Why are people so afraid of death?

The suffering ends there.

Guess I’ll just have to stick with cutting myself since it’s clear no one actually cares anymore. Well, at least not the people who I want/need to care.

That if, by some bullshit chance, everything that happens to you during your life is controlled by someone or something, that there’s a little meeting that happens in order to try to fuck your life over some more? Like, I’m picturing this sort of casual encounter going on:

Dick1: Oh, hey there, David. What’s up?

Dick2: Oh, nothing much. Been browsing the internet and what not. What’s up with you.

Dick1: Nothing much here. *glances at screen for business* Hey, dude. How often have you been checking that?

Dick2: Oh, shit. It’s been a while.

Dick1: How long is a while?

Dick2: Uhh… at least a few months now.

Dick1: Seriously, Dave?

Dick2: Hey, it happens. You get preoccupied with other things. Don’t tell me that you haven’t done that before.

Dick1: That’s true. Let’s see what you have on your plate.

*both look at screen*

Dick1: Are you seeing what I’m seeing?

Dick2: … I think so.

Dick1: I must be imagining things.

Dick2: No, man. She’s. Actually. Happy.

Dick1: Fuck, man. This is why you need to pay attention more often.

Dick2: Sorry. It won’t happen again. Let me fix that. *presses the button the fucks up all the good things in your life* That should do it.

Dick1: Haha! She’s such an emotional wreck. She’s even cutting herself again. Good work, man.

Dick2: Gotta make up for lost time!

-End of Conversation-

Seriously. This must happen because whenever I let my guard down and go, “Okay, I can accept this. I’m allowed to be happy and get comfortable. It’s okay to just let yourself be vunerable because if you don’t allow yourself to be, you’ll never get to experience the best things in life, like love.” And then just shit happens. It’s hard to get over a break up when you still love the person and are forced to greet him and see him on a regular basis. This isn’t fair, but life isn’t a wish-granting factory, so I guess I should just either get over it, or get over life.

Fuck.

I just want to stop living.

It would be so much easier than to live, so why does everyone fight to continue to suffer?

I wonder if good things are to come.

Pshh… Look at me try to comfort myself with bullshit.