This isn’t a movie.

I can say alot about myself. I could tell you i’m happy and have wonderful days with wonderful people and everything’s going just wonderful. But that would be a lie. I’m not happy. Things and people aren’t wonderful. This isn’t a movie where the hopeless maiden gets saved by prince charming or something. No. That never happens and whoever told you that needs to get smacked in the face. At 6, i was mallested for 2 straight years. At 10, i was overweight. At 12/13, i had an eating disorder. At 14, i gave up my everything to a boy who never cared a thing about me. He lied. He didn’t like my smile, he didn’t how i looked in the summer sun, he didn’t think i was beautiful. He got what he wanted and he’s gone. Although he ended up shattering my heart and taking the pieces so i’ll never be able to go back to how i was. It didn’t start out as love. I wanted sex. Sex makes me feel wanted. Even for those little minutes or hours, i feel very wanted and i love it. Thats all i ever wanted. But now? Well. Im a smoker. I drink way too much. My wrists have scars. I want to die. You could say i’m a whore. But when you say whore, it makes you think of a trashy girl who comes from a terrible family, etc. No, i didn’t come from a terrible family. I dont hang out with trashy people, which is half of the reason all my friends are such dicks. Im a regular girl. Well, on the outside that is. It feels as if i’ve been dying each and everyday on the inside. It’s a gut wrenching pain that only few are so “blessed” to have. Great blessing. I’m sitting in a dark room blasting Boston by Augusta, and i’m sad. What to do about it? Well i’m not quite sure. They say suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Does temporary mean half of my life?