by Lincoln » Sun Jan 17, 2016 7:58 am
...
Of course.
Of course no one understands my situation.
I'm only surrounded by people who hate me, no big deal.
My advice on rabbit safety, health, and happiness doesn't count,
Its not like I've owned them since birth.
I tried to tell that girl that if she showed she was responsible, her dad might agree, but no, my advice is invalid. I get a reply;
"I know that! I was asking how I could convince him easier!"
If he says no, its no. He's your dad.
Why do people always misunderstand me? I have been flagged down for
"Rude/mean/cruel comments" when I am just trying to help.
They don't have to be so mean. They could just leave me alone.
I am beginning to realise that I have nothing special of my own. Maybe a coupleairs of clothing.
I wish.. I wish the pain would just end.
I have too many encounters with death,
Some cases mine, others, family members.
My mother, in a hotel room with her husband and children.
My uncle, the only person who cared, wilted away due to a mental illness, and too much medicine. He didn't die peacefully. He didn't die next to his family. He choose to die, he could've stopped it. He didn't have too. He forgot about the people who loved him, and slipped away.
Me.
Me.
I tried to stop.
I tried to.
I was stopped. By my boyfriend.
On his birthday. I ruined it.
The last time he even smiled at me. I pushed everything, asked too many questions, masked my anxiety, and ruined our relationship.
He won't forgive me, and if he did, his mother wouldnt. And if his mothers in charge, he is to avoid me. Her orders. To my mother, and to Vostro.
I hate her.
I despise her, and I won't apologize for an anti-suicide letter.
I wanted to write that, to show everyone that we are all loved, to share my experience. It was taken the wrong way.
I lost all my friends.
Adults started calling me a mistake, an eraser smudge on a book report.
A burden.
Dangerous.
Its getting worse
No one talks to me anywhere
I have no friends
I had to change schools
I haven't made human contact for two weeks. Even with my family.
They don't care about me.
Sometimes I'm brought food.
But most of the time I have to sneak it.
And I'm starving, oh god. But yet I won't come out of my shell.
I won't. I'm safe in my room, with my tablet and phone, my bed, my stuffed animals, my art supplies. I'm safe here, but not in the real world.
Nothing's going to help me now.
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