Seriously at the age of seventeen I'm ready to throw in the towel. I mean whats the point of this whole living thing when your not even doing that. Just surviving everyday by the skin of you teeth. So miserable and yet you have to keep up the pretense that your miss Mary fucking sunshine. And being here seeing all the people who are older then me doesn't make it any easier for me. All it makes me think is "there goes me in fifteen years...still depressed, alone, and just barely surviving." Honestly I'd rather be dead but i actually have some feelings left and even though my father abused me and my mother stood by and did nothing i would feel awful knowing they found me dead. I talk to people who are older but still no one ever can tell me the point of doing this day to day.