I cut.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
I don’t know who I’m telling this to. no one would even give a fuck.
I’m crying. everywhere. I want to be happy again. I want to live a happy life.

I want to kill myself. I want to die.
I need someone. I don’t have anyone.
I want to ask for help. But who I am going to go to? I have no one. Not even my fucking boyfriend.

crying all over the place.

oh my god. I can’t do it anymore.

Yes. I am, in fact, going to Mexico for the day. With my father.
I already want to shoot myself in the face.
Yay.

I had a dream about you last night.
We were together, happy.
I wish I had that now. Instead of the constant urges to go play in traffic.

I wish I knew what to do to make myself happy. What’s the secret to it? I can be happy at times. But only when Ruben makes me feel /particularly/ special. Which isn’t very often.

I don’t know what I’m saying at this point. Maybe I’m only thinking these things because I’m stuck in the car for three hours with my dad. And he just makes me want to off myself, two fold.

I haven’t eaten in three days. I’m a tad hungry.
What the fuck am I even saying at this point.
I just want to write down the dumb stuff I’m feeling right now, and none of this even makes sense.

All I know is, I want to be happy.
I want to be happy again. I want a whole day to pass by where I don’t feel like an empty body and I don’t have my urges to cut and kill myself.
I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being dramatic. But I feel like you were my only reason for living. And now that you’re gone, I don’t have a reason to exist.

I love you.

Let the three hour drive of misery commence.

I want to cut. And cry. And die.
I miss making myself bleed to avoid the pain of actual emotions.
The world can go fuck itself.

I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m so confused.
I need my pills. I need someone to fucking talk to.

ugh.
what the fuck do I even do anymore.

I don’t even fucking know anymore.

I’m such an awful person.
Shoot me.