My Stupid Feelings

What if I'm not okay? I mean my life isn't necessarily bad, I have a family a family that supports me in almost anything I do. But I still find myself just faking happiness, smiling when all I want to do is sit and cry and possibly go to sleep and not wake up.

I don't really want to die though, I just want to disappear. Start over and go to a place where nobody knows me and the only thing I can get judged for is being me, being fat.

In a world where every single person I know is skinny and beautiful, and me never "getting the guy" it takes it's toll. I'm not the happy and carefree girl I was when I was 12. It sucks, growing up truly sucks. Everyone you know and have grown to love changes and suddenly your best friend is the popular girl and the cheerleader, and your just sitting there being ignored and pushed aside for the new friends.

It's normal for me to want to hang out with my friends and they just don't have time for me because they're busy with their boyfriends, or away at college actually doing something with their life. I'm always the girl who never wants to grow up and is always stuck in the past, or keeps going when other people are done and over it. It's like my mind tells me I need to grow up and do something but my heart just won't let me.

I feel as if i'm just a bother to everyone but myself, and even myself sometimes. Like no one actually wants to be around me no matter how much they deny it or how much they say they love me or miss me, in my mind it's all a lie. They don't really want me around, they just feel sorry for me and that's the only reason they stick around.

The only ones there for you are your blade and music. And before you know it your wearing a hoodie in 80 degree weather cause you don't want your "friends" to know that you became "one of those people". I am not ashamed of my scars, I am afraid of what my parents will think of me, afraid that they would blame themselves for my depression and for my actions. And in hiding them, with hoodies and even makeup, I am just forcing myself into a deeper guilt-based depression and the urge to cut just gets harder and harder to resist. Lucky for me I have been able to resist that urge for almost 2 months (the last time I cut was March 17, 2013). But that just makes the urge harder to resist.

You know normal people would look at their scars and think 'what the fuck did I just do? I am so disappointed in myself' but me? Nope I sit there and admire them. I look at the deeper ones on my thighs and think 'that was my deepest cut' and I have a sick sense of pride in that. I'm proud when I cut deep but not deep enough for stitches or for anyone to actually find out. How fucked up is that? I shouldn't be proud of that! I shouldn't sit there in the shower right after I cut and scrub the wounds and make them bleed more, a lot more, enough to make me light headed. I shouldn't like to watch the blood leave my body or get angry because there's not as much blood as I wanted there to be. But in my fucked up mind it's normal, it feels good and it feels right.