Be forewarned: This is just a mad babble... What did I do wrong this time? What did I say? I just tried to tell you the truth... I'm sorry that you won't accept I'm schizoid. I'm sorry I AM schizoid. I'm sorry for being born. I'm sorry for being the way I am. I'm sorry for living. I'm sorry I'm a failure. I'm sorry I don't live up to your expectations. I'm sorry mom died. I know it was my fault. I'm sorry for not being able to kill myself. You'd just love for me to be gone, wouldn't you? Free to do what ever you want! As you said yourself, I drive you mad. You don't think of me as being more than a manipulative, wicked bitch. You have no idea how it is to live with the guilt... You have no idea it is not to sleep for over 150 hours... You have no idea how it is to live with hallucinations... You have no idea how it is to live with constant disapproval. You have no idea how it is to be judged. You have no idea how much I hate my life. Why won't you simply accept me the way I am? Why? Why won't you just kill me if you won't? What fun is it to torture me the way you are now? What fun is it to inflict the type of pain you are? You told me to be honest with you. I am. I openly told you I was hallucinating. I told you I had severe insomnia. I told you I was suicidal. You just told me I was making it up. Then... you told me I was a manipulative bitch. Remember that? I tried again and again...and still do...to tell you that I'm not OK. I cry out for help from you, but you simply turn your back on me. You try to rationalize my issues by telling me that I caused all my problems. That my hallucinations were caused by horror films and books! HAHA! I don't watch any movies...and my books all fall under the category of classical literature and philosophy. Since when did reading Tolstoy induce visions of mutilated corpses? Then, you blame my insomnia on my caffeine in take. HAHA. I haven't had any coffee this week and now I'm totally unable to sleep! Clearly, you're wrong. Yet you still deny it. You tell me that I'm disorderly. Newsflash: I'm the only person who does any cleaning in the god damn house. I even do your laundry for fuck's sake...So STFU and be happy. The floors are spotless, the windows are shining...there's no dust anywhere...and I'm disoderly? Hello? Isn't there something wrong with that picture? Do you find guilt trips fun? Do you know how your ultimatums and declarations affect my life? Do you know how hard I try to be perfect for you? Do you know that the only reason I haven't killed myself is because I don't want to hurt you? I wonder why that is...I wonder why I still think killing myself would hurt you. It's evident you don't want me around anyways. You want me dead; it's obvious. I truly I am sorry I'm so fucked up. I'm doing my best to end it, I really am. But, you were right. I am a failure. I can't even kill myself. I'm a freak. I can't live, I can't die. I'm just drifting between worlds. My hallucinations are going to drive me mad...And your denying their existence is not helping at all. I see things! Is it so hard to accept? I see bloody walls, desecrated corpses, melting walls, moving objects, ghosts... Does that explain my behavior to you? Does that explain why I am so tense and untrusting all the time? Why should I trust you, anyways? You've done nothing but hurt me in the past. I can count the number of promises you've kept on the fingers of one hand. They total three. After all this, you claim that you love me! Is it that surprising that I don't believe you? Who would? Just look at what you do to me! I think you'd go insane if you were me... I ask for empathy, you tell me I'm selfish. I ask for solitude, you tell me I'm a freak. I ask for independence, you tell me I'm irresponsible. I ask for help, you tell me I don't need it. And...yet...I still love you. That's what makes it hurt all the more! I can't explain why I do...I simply do. And you exploit that to the max. You TRY to ruin me. You TRY to drive me over the edge. I could say I HATE YOU, but I really don't. I don't want to see you hurt. I want everything to be perfect for you! But when I offer to help, you push me a way and walk all over me. I hate my life! I hate me! I hate this world! I JUST WANT TO F-ING DIE. And I'm still incapable of killing myself. ^^ Just ignore that. I had to babble.