• I don't want to be the ever so sweet hurting your teeth. I want to keep baking cakes for you, but I don't at the same time. This journal isn't enough anymore it seems, but who can I trust? Everyone wants to be that person, but only out of self gain or satisfaction. I'm the worst creature to ever crawl this earth. I am low and cowardly. I blame and I cry, and I throw up when I eat because I'm only hungry until I smell food. I hate my appetite, not even my body wants me to live. How can you love me? How can you think all of this about me? I'm not this sweet intelligent person. I'm a fake, I'm a liar, I'm a whore, I'm the worst of the worst. What is there to love? I'm not funny, I'm not outgoing, I'm not pretty, or lovely, or interesting. I'm mediocre in all I do. I'm best at nothing. I'll always be second place, in school, in line, in life. Don't you see what I see? I'm bitter and quiet, controlled and unhappy, I'm messed up, you know? I'm so fucking messed up. And I used those ear things, and I'm still spinning. I'm a spinning mess, don't you see? Why won't you see! All I want to do is cry, and when you leave and go out, I will. I'll do just that, that's one thing I am good at. I started thinking about suicide again. That scares me. Maybe I'm not better, maybe I never will be. I'm scared and upset. I just want to be with you. I want to feel safe, like when I was little. Maybe you were wrong, maybe, maybe I am broken. I feel the constant need for self punishment, but I can't figure out the best way to do it. I used to burn myself, but that's not enough. I wish I could just be happy (it's a choice....) Why am I so unhappy? Quote of the Day: ~“A cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want?”~ --Oscar Wilde

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