Truth

Fuck. I hate myself. And I keep telling people I don't know why I'm so sad but really it's just so cleshay and "fake" to say that I hate myself. The world is so fucked up now that even admitting that it's cleshay that you fucking hate yourself so much you would..........and the reason I leave that blank is because I'm not not even sure. But that admitting that makes you desperate for attention. And you know what?! I hope it does! NO ONE FUCKING CARES! And if no one else cares then why should I? And maybe that's why I don't. Or at least am trying not to. I wish I could matter to someone, one person of my choosing forever and no matter what have them there when I need them. I don't know if I've found that person, and I don't know if I'll ever know even if that person made it so painfully obvious that they care because I hate or turn down the idea that someone loves me. Because if someone loves you they know you in a way no one else could and knows everything about you and never forgets to pay attention to detail because every moment with them is new. And you only fight because of yourself, not because of eachother. That kind of love is perfection. But I don't think it's real. But not because people are imperfect and we make mistakes. It's because people, including myself, don't know how to love past mistakes.
And maybe we have to hate ourselves to realize the things that make us proud when we read them aloud, alone in our backyard wishing that someone had heard it.

hello somebody

tonights one of those nights you don't really know what to do or say. whether it's because you can't find the words describe how you feel, or everythings already fallen apart, or you just have no will to speak. when i think back to who i used to be about 3 years ago and where i thought i would have been at age 16, i see now how different everything truely is. i would like to think, looking back on everything, that i could find a way to avoid getting to the place i am now if i had the chance, but it just happened so fast i can barely remember when this all started. its so easy and simple to blame it on the people around you, but that can only get you so far. i've reached a point where just being me becomes my own prison. i keep saying the same thing everytime i cry, and im not even sure what it means. "i don't want to be here." but where is "here"? where i am in life? where i live? being alive? i just don't know anymore. its like that part of the movie when you know that the main charicotr fucked up bad and everyone's sad. maybe except the bad guy. but who's the bad guy in my life?

the only thing i've figured out of all of this is that in the end i blame myself. for letting stupid things bother me. for letting myself do certain things. for not trying harder to love myself and establish a healthy lifestyle.

maybe it'snot smart to post this, but hey. we're all humans and we all like to think someone out there cares.

i like to think someone will read this. idk.

i feel the need to say have fun but idk who im talking to or what im talking about.