I guess I'm here again, sitting alone. I'm alone again. I'm not here again. And I lied again. I feel like the more I try, the more it means nothing at all. Why is it when I look to the shadows around me, that I am nothing to them. At the end of the day, I can't feel my hands, my body, I can't feel anything. I can't even cry anymore. I wish I could. I'm wounded, again. And it's just losing small bits at a time. And sometimes I just want to end it all. But I guess I don't have a total will for suicide. I'm too selfish for that. But that's not light. It's just more darkness. I guess if I can't find a way out of my own Oblivion, what will helping others do? What will LIVING do? The uselessness of my soul is almost comforting, anymore. I don't know how many years...well, actually, I don't think I've EVER gotten a hug and felt it. Physical Contact I felt loved. I guess most people would think I'd feel bad about my mom and dad never being there. Actually it doesn't hurt. Though in some ways, maybe it does. I know I never had anyone to look up to. I made myself. But then again, I didn't do a good job. My mom was never there, she's completely lost it. My dad's dead, and the rest of my family is screwed up. Really, what am I? I'm nothing. I'm a half-reflection of my family. And I really don't feel anything anymore. Sometimes it scares me that I can be so heartless. That I can be so cold, to my own family. But it's truth, I cannot say I don't. I'm just an awful person. My heart is heavy, and I can't live easily. I'm only asked on a rare occasion if I'm okay. And even a more rare occasion I'm honest. I'm sorry for lying. It's just that I don't want to take too much attention. I'm aware I've rarely been given attention...but any is too much for me. I've realized enough to say that I was not meant to be heard. I'm just the silent existence. So if I left this world, I'd be nothing at all to the world. If I slit my wrists tonight, and everyone here...I wouldn't be remembered. I know there are atleast a dozen people I'd miss. They don't even know I exist. It hurts sometimes, and I can't feel myself. I can't believe how cold reality is. But then in the end, I'm at peace, because these people wouldn't care. No damage. It's like the best way to leave, because they will never be sad, and I atleast knew them. It hurts to say that. Let me apologize...for what I'm about to say.... But I do not want anyone to love me. Sometimes I can lay around, just doing nothing. Thinking, about all these things. I cannot break free from the chains that bond me. I'm in the darkest place, and I cannot see a way out. And somehow I can keep myself hidden from everyone. There's not a point in living, a life like this....I shouldn't be alive. Someone could've used this life better. But look at me, I'm this person. I've accomplished nothing, I've hurt, and damaged people. I've lost everything. I don't want to feel, sometimes. Because I know that it's so different, I don't think I'd fit it. I already don't with everyone. I guess I can't find anywhere I belong. Everyone just seems to pass, straight through. I don't even exist. I'd die a silent death, that I would. And I know that no one would notice. That's okay, though. I hate myself. I hate every detail, every thing about myself. I want to make myself bleed, until I can't anymore. Until I can't see anymore. Until I can't breathe anymore. Until I can feel again. I can't talk with anyone here. I can't talk with anyone anywhere else. Is this because of what I've become? Did I just screw up all my life, and now I can't do anything right? I don't know how bad my heart desires, for me to just say once, "I'm not okay". But I am okay. I am here. And that's all I'm living on. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, SF. I'm sorry to anyone I know. Obviously I am not suited for this life. I believed, that maybe there was atleast one place, where people might...well, I guess I'm just a little too hopeful. I'm sorry if I am insulting you. I did not mean to. I'm just blaming myself. Any anger is at my self. But it's okay, people may hurt me if they want to. They can tell me they hate me, that I should die. They can tell me anything. Because I can probably agree to it in more then one degree. In fact I hope it would help them. Heh, hate me, destroy me. I don't have any reason to keep myself alive, please use what little left of me. If it will help you, then please, do so. I don't care to do much with my life. I only wish to really, just...die. I don't want anything. Not anymore. Ignore these few words from me. I'm sorry, I let them slip out.