Society Sucks.

As I silently walk home, smoke in hand, I think about my sad excuse of a life. It's something I do a lot. I feel like maybe, there is something wrong with me. Maybe I am too fat, or too ugly, or just too pathetic over all.
I can't help but feel this way, because these are things that I hear a lot from people. There are a lot of pathetic things about my life, though. When I hear people say these things about me, I start to believe them. I start to believe that I am too stupid. That I am just a waste of human life. As I am going over all my flaws in my head, I turn into my driveway, and stomp on my cigarette.

I walk into my house, and as quietly as I can, climb the stairs to my bedroom. I am so not in the mood to go over how my day went with my mother, and lie about it all. Once I get into my bedroom, I set all my stuff down onto my bed, and walk into my bathroom. I look into the full length mirror, and poke at my stomach. I look over every flaw on my body, until I quickly turn around, and walk over to the cupboard above the sink, where my razors are kept. Yep, you got it. I cut myself to 'ease' the pain. Sometimes it knocks all the bad thoughts I think about myself away.
I drag the blade over each of my wrists a few times until I'm satisfied.

I wrap a large bandage around my arms to stop the bleeding, and walk back into my bedroom. I plop down on my bed and grab my iPod from my bag beside me. As I shove the headphones in my ears, I hear a loud knocking on my door. I sigh loudly, and walk towards the locked door.

"Yes mother?"
"We need to talk to you downstairs," She says before walking towards the stairs, motioning for me to follow.
"Whats up?" I ask, sitting down on the couch.
"We have something that we need to tell you," Says my father slowly.
"Mhm?"
"We're moving, honey." My parents say in unison. I look up in shock.
"What? Why? Seriosly?" I ask excitedly.
"Yes. Because I got a undeniable job offer, we'll be leaving in a few weeks, so you have plenty of time to say goodbye to your friends," My father says sweetly. My father works as a realistate agent, so I guess there must be a really good realistate agency, to wherever we're going.
"Where are we moving exactly?" I ask curiously.
"California, darling." My mother says excited, my mother owns a fashion agency, so I suppose this would be her break through moment.
Little did they know, it would be so much of a relief to leave this hell hole. I have little to no friends, except Julyssa. Shes probably the closest thing I've had to a 'Best Friend' since grade 7.
Did I happen to mention, my parents no nothing of my bullying problems?