DONE.

Ever woken up and been disappointed that you did?
Hated yourself so much that you write down lists of why you don't deserve it?
Stood in front of the mirror and outlined every single thing that's wrong with you?
And ran it through your head over and over again until it stops being words and becomes truth?
Ever indulged in a vice- drinks, sex, playing with knives, whatever- because at least for that moment you aren't thinking about what a goddamn fuckup you are?

I don't really know when it started but it did. I'm tangled up in a love that will destroy me, I've spent so long afraid of my mother and she's following me, her voice echoing in my head- "Fat. Fuck up. Disgusting. Might as well be a hooker because there's not much else you're good for." , I don't understand it but I don't like it and at the same time I do. Sometimes I think that I'm exactly where I want to be, and sometimes... I'm just so sick.

I disgust myself.

And probably most of you. I know I haven't exactly been... around. Trustworthy. A good friend. Present, physically or emotionally. I know that I've changed. I used to tell myself that when people told me I'd changed it was because I'd stopped living the way they did. But it doesn't always mean a positive change. And I think it's clear that I always run away.

But it hurts me like hell that you all would think that I would say to someone's face that they looked like a man or had acne. It hurts. Because I would never. Never. Never. It doesn't matter if I was too drunk to breathe or stoned or fucking or ANYTHING. I WOULD NEVER DO THAT.

"It's definitely changed the dynamics now that you're gone, but at least it gives everyone something to gossip about."

That's fine. I can't say that I'm angry because it would't be justified. I can't say that I'm hurt because I don't think that my body has the capacity to hurt any more. I can't even say that I want to fix anything. All I can do is admit quiet defeat.

I'm tired. You guys, I'm so tired of faking it, I'm so tired of trying, I'm so tired of pretending that I love where I am or love, well, anything. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that there's no such thing as unconditional love.
I can't say that I'm happy. My family is torn to pieces and shouldn't a family be an anchor?

I sat up last night with my heartbroken father from three in the morning until seven, comforting a devestated grown man, watching him drink beer after beer and listening to him pour his heart out. Finally I made him a cup of tea and convinced him that he needed to go to bed.

AND I CAN'T FIX IT. I can't control it. I can't even make any of it okay anymore. I can't make my mother sane and I can't make my father happy. Christ, I can't make myself happy.

Maybe I should just cut my losses and give the fuck up.

I'm just so tired.