I Really Don't Write

I don't write at all..but I need to get some things out so here we go. First of all i recently found out that my heart could literally hurt. It freaking hurts like a mofo. I keep clutching my chest, thinking I'm having a heart attack but I know I'm not. It's just me silently suffering. I guess it's aching, and I think it'll be like this forever. Why is that for every one day I'm happy, I get like 6 months of sadness. Sure I screwed up. I always do. But after every screwup I try to do what's right. I try to 'be myself' and 'forget what everyone thinks' but i can't. I just cannot do that. But of course I'll still try. I feel like I'm about to break down. Just completely break down. I'm so tired of being here. I want this suffering to end. Better yet, I really want someone to come and coddle me. Someone to hold me in their arms and say 'Honey you're gonna be alright!' But no. I'm sitting here alone on the verge of tears. I refuse to cry. Once the tears come, they'll never stop. Mom will come home and get all on my case about what's wrong with me. Then I'd have to tell her everything..and that would not be good. I just wish someone would care. I really just wish someone would care about me no matter what I did. God. Why am I such a failure? I'm not supposed to question God..but I can't keep myself from thinking it. What did I do to deserve to be so effed up? Why am I not semi-normal? Why is it that I'm not worth anyone's time even if I devote myself completely to them? Why is it that I'm so horribly skinny? Why can't I just be a normal sized person? Gosh. I'm just so sick of people asking me if I'm anorexic or bulimic all the time. I'm just so freaking sick of it. Sick of everything. Sick of being me. Sick of having to deal with my thoughts. Sick of trying to convince myself not to end myself. WHY? Why should I not end myself?? It's not like I'd be missed all that much. Sure my mom will cry at the funeral. My dad would probably show up late, and then leave early. He'd probably go visit friends while he was here. And my friends? Sure they'd come. They'd go 'smh' and be like 'Oh, she always was depressive.' Am I really though? Depressive people go looking for things to get depressed about I thought. These things just seem to happen to me. No, that's a lie. I always seem to manage to bring these things onto myself. And now the tears are coming. I can feel them welling up in the bottom of my chest. I refuse to cry. I refuse to cry alone. Why don't I have anybody? WHY DON'T I HAVE ANYFUCKINGBODY? I'm so tired of holding this in. The life is draining out of me. This is slowly making me go mental. I'm sitting here just typing out my guts and nobody is even here. Nobody cares. Why. Someone please tell me why.