Honestly, I don't know how to feel anymore..
Part of me wants to end it all, stop my crying every night.
Part of me wants to just finally see the good in life, become happy.
I've tried killing myself, on four occasions, and the worst so far was me ending up in a hospital for about a week. (Other than the cast from trying to get hit by a car.) I don't want to sound like some stereotype, so I'll make a few things clear.. I'm not depressed because of being bullied, although that doesn't help me. Since last year, I've just be remembering things.
People, places, old friends. What used to be. And I can't help from crying, for hours, nonstop. The road untraveled pulls on my heart, and it hurts.. It hurts alot. Right as I'm typing this I'm crying. I feel so guilty because I used to be such an a*****e to some of my old "friends." And I can never see them now, never again. I've lost contact for so long, I don't even know if they live within 100 miles anymore. I used to make fun of people, call the names.. And honestly, I feel so bad thinking about it. It hurts so bad, I want to ******** scream. I've taken handfuls of anti-depressants in hope of dying, or maybe just fixing me. Nothing ever works, ever. Highschool hasn't helped, I have about five real world people to talk to, and about four of those five hate me as-is. As for my family...
When I was little, my parents either didn't want me, or couldn't keep me.
So I was put in an adoption home.. I didn't mind, seeing as I hated living with them. My real father was some psycho alcoholic, and my mom was just a push-over, and his punching bag. The first family that adopted me was no better, just white-trash rednecks. It took three years, but I was put back into the foster-home. The second and final family, who I still live with, is somewhat better, but not by much.. I live in an oppressive neighborhood clouded with anti-gay, hateful, and spiteful people. I suppose it's retribution for me being such a b***h to everyone I could. If you're curious as to why I did such things, it was really only to feel good inside.
Knowing I made someone else feel bad about their problems, relived mine. I know I was wrong now, I just wish I could've back then. I just want to ask you all... I used to bully gay kids.
I used to bully fat people, emo kids, the list goes on. Now I'm the one whose the butt of the jokes, and holding a gun to my head every night crying, just wishing someday things could get better. Do I deserve this? Is this some divine retribution?
I hate living, I really do. It's nearly impossible for me to find joy in this existence. The primary reason I haven't shot myself yet is just a fear of death. I don't know if there is a Heaven and Hell, or if there is really nothing when I die. I've tried for a few years to be happy again.
To smile, and really mean it. Sure, I mean, I've not been a total walking zombie but.. I couldn't name the last time I've hanged out with friends.
I dunno. I can't even put it into words, really... All of this has just been one rant of why I want to die. I really just want someone to talk to, someone I can vent to. I know I deserve how I feel, but.. It's just too much for me to carry.
Part of me wants to end it all, stop my crying every night.
Part of me wants to just finally see the good in life, become happy.
I've tried killing myself, on four occasions, and the worst so far was me ending up in a hospital for about a week. (Other than the cast from trying to get hit by a car.) I don't want to sound like some stereotype, so I'll make a few things clear.. I'm not depressed because of being bullied, although that doesn't help me. Since last year, I've just be remembering things.
People, places, old friends. What used to be. And I can't help from crying, for hours, nonstop. The road untraveled pulls on my heart, and it hurts.. It hurts alot. Right as I'm typing this I'm crying. I feel so guilty because I used to be such an a*****e to some of my old "friends." And I can never see them now, never again. I've lost contact for so long, I don't even know if they live within 100 miles anymore. I used to make fun of people, call the names.. And honestly, I feel so bad thinking about it. It hurts so bad, I want to ******** scream. I've taken handfuls of anti-depressants in hope of dying, or maybe just fixing me. Nothing ever works, ever. Highschool hasn't helped, I have about five real world people to talk to, and about four of those five hate me as-is. As for my family...
When I was little, my parents either didn't want me, or couldn't keep me.
So I was put in an adoption home.. I didn't mind, seeing as I hated living with them. My real father was some psycho alcoholic, and my mom was just a push-over, and his punching bag. The first family that adopted me was no better, just white-trash rednecks. It took three years, but I was put back into the foster-home. The second and final family, who I still live with, is somewhat better, but not by much.. I live in an oppressive neighborhood clouded with anti-gay, hateful, and spiteful people. I suppose it's retribution for me being such a b***h to everyone I could. If you're curious as to why I did such things, it was really only to feel good inside.
Knowing I made someone else feel bad about their problems, relived mine. I know I was wrong now, I just wish I could've back then. I just want to ask you all... I used to bully gay kids.
I used to bully fat people, emo kids, the list goes on. Now I'm the one whose the butt of the jokes, and holding a gun to my head every night crying, just wishing someday things could get better. Do I deserve this? Is this some divine retribution?
I hate living, I really do. It's nearly impossible for me to find joy in this existence. The primary reason I haven't shot myself yet is just a fear of death. I don't know if there is a Heaven and Hell, or if there is really nothing when I die. I've tried for a few years to be happy again.
To smile, and really mean it. Sure, I mean, I've not been a total walking zombie but.. I couldn't name the last time I've hanged out with friends.
I dunno. I can't even put it into words, really... All of this has just been one rant of why I want to die. I really just want someone to talk to, someone I can vent to. I know I deserve how I feel, but.. It's just too much for me to carry.