God, sometimes there is nothing I can do to sate what emotion I have. It hurts hurts hurts me to be so reliant on what other people do/say/think to be happy. I want, or need, to hurt someone or something right now. I guess it is more of a need type thing here. I had a super time at the concert/show thing. Elseworth is so amazing live. That and their CD (Tell a Friend) rocks ass too. And I had my CD signed by all the guys. And we got Bryan a CD and had that signed as well, since he couldn't come and all. I might have had a better time if he had. I might have felt that I wasn't always second best to someone else and that I am not always just used for what I have and what I can give. He might have made me feel like a person, not a supplier. Well, fuck, I did and I will and nobody could care about it now, after the fact at four in the morning when I feel my worse. This was a fucking favor. Yeah, I wanted to go, but fuck this was Ian's thing, all we got was to see a band for half an hour after a four hour drive down there. But whatever the fuck that isn't even my reason for feeling so alienated and alone and stupid and ugly and pissed off and used. But I cant talk about it cause that isn't the nice type of thing anyone wants to hear. I'm supposed to be happy all the time and not cut and not rant anything out. Who can I tell? No one. No one wants to hear that for once I thought I had friends who liked me and weren't obsessed about my other friends. Though I'm not really that important to her either anymore. I'm just lost from everything. And nothing has made it better. I want to bleed out this crap. But no, I have to stop that for mom and dad. After I move out then they could give half a shit on a tin roof less about what I do to myself. As long as they aren't to blame for it and they don't have to pay anything for it. I'm on a fast little rotation right now. Up down up down updownupdownupdowndowndown.

free-fall' isn't the right word, but it is the first to come to mind

I let myself do this, I swear. I want to have this crap on me. Then, after having it all been myself, I want to throw it at someone else. Fuck them, they can have it, I made, but they deserve it. I'm such a fucker. Someone should kill me. At least I know I deserve the fuck ass friends I have. I'll get used to it, of course.

see also: middle school; youth group; life in general.

Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains. I get left with the mess and the work after all the others had their fill. I will be working tomorrow so that everyone else, no, just mostly Ian, could have a day of fun. And run off. So I can be alone again. I guess. Wonderful. Just wonderful. And not so long ago I wondered why I had such good friends. Funny, I don't know where they went. Now, all I can do is type and know I could get a razor in two minutes and be an inch from euphoria in four minutes past that. And why am I not? Because... I don't know really. I don't want to go to the hospital. Sure I can hide it for a while, a long time in fact. I doubt mom cares enough to check me again for a month at least, but she might notice I flinch with every step. Pain so good it stays. I can only imagine being talked badly about right now. Stupid, fat, clingy, freak, loser, loner, outcast, lesbian, hermit, who cares, why bother, forget her, only good for her stuff, only good for her hot friends, ugly girls always have hot friends. Wince. I can only just hear it, the laughter, the mocking. But nobody can hear me. Nobody could guess. Nobody would.

Maybe later I will talk about the short-lived fun I had.