EDIT: If the cuss words are against the rules or too much, please inform me mods and I will edit the post accordingly. If not, I'd like to keep them in, thank you. Sometimes I really sit and ponder whether I'm going crazy or if I'm actually the sanest person I know. The two great extremes, you know? A person could really leave reality behind just thinking about something like that. It's a question that can't fucking be answered, you know? I want to know, though. I want to fucking know. I think about it and the answer varies from day to day, week to week, month to month, year to year. God-damn it, this isn't life. What is wrong with me? I dunno. I think that being alone with your thoughts is never fucking healthy. Never. That's why most killers are loners. People left them alone to their own devices... and their devices turned out to be bloodshed. I could write about this all day. It's something that is constantly fucking prying and nagging with every fiber of my being, always an insistent little whisper in the back of my mind. My mind is a fucking cavern and I dunno.. maybe sometimes it echoes, eh? I dunno. I apologize. I'm just.. I haven't slept in like.. thirty hours. And... I... Really don't know how to deal with things right now. I'm just.. gonna go to work in three hours and for one day, try to pretend that I know who the FUCK I am. You know? Phew. Haha listen to me, I am fucking crazy. This is why I don't open up. This is me opening up. Walls down. Vulnerable. This is the real Lee. I don't know if I'll post this. I.. I just don't know anymore. I've had a lot of people tell me that I need to talk to a therapist to sort out my issues and... that's a big step to take. But I really think that step needs to be taken before I hurt myself or someone else. I'm not making excuses. But.. I've been through a lot. My dad died, I never knew him. The majority of men that have been paraded through my life have hurt my mom or they've hurt me. I got molested by my mom's boyfriend and I want to hurt him, I want to hurt him badly. It makes me smile, and that's.. not something that should make someone smile when they're alone in the dark... I want to though.. I can't help it. Maybe because.. I'm afraid that he made me like him. A fucking sick... perverted depraved fuck. I think of it like an infectious disease. He touched me and infected me and.. I've never told anyone this before but... I told them I was pretending to be asleep. But he talked to me. I uhh.. I blacked it out for a long time. Uhh.. He said he'd hurt my brothers and my mom if I said anything. And that's why I kept it quiet until he was out of the picture. Now... If I saw him.. I would murder him and gladly go to prison. He has a new family, with a step son and a step daughter. People like that don't deserve to be alive. If I'm even a fraction of what he is, I don't deserve to be alive. And... that's why I contemplate suicide every minute of every single day. I'm an atheist and I've only ever prayed for death. If I end my life before I destroy someone else's -- whether through murder or physical abuse or mental abuse or.. whatever -- then maybe that will... Like... redeem my pathetic existence.. I don't know. Sometimes I wish that I had died when I was baby, when I had cancer... My dad might be alive.. My older brother -- who found our dad dead and thought it was all his fault -- might be happier. My mom would have never got with that sicko. And everyone would be okay. I'm sorry.