Do I even need to stay here…

I’m a semi-normal thirteen-year-old. Sitting at his computer desk, eating milk and cookies after he gets home from a hard day at school. But in my hand is a pair of scissors, worn from use. I am cutting myself. But once you look past the fat and scars (physical and mental) I am a good person. And I accept that. I don’t hate myself, it’s just my douchebag brain making me take everything the kids at school say to me like they’re true. And some of the things are. I feel mostly carefree, except for the fact that I fail at everything, including killing myself. Yeah. Once I cut a deep scar into my upper arm, and rubbed a rusty section of rebar over it, in hopes that it would do something… but I failed. I failed. I failed… I just can’t stop saying it over and over again to myself. I need an escape. The only things keeping me here are my family, and my girlfriend… She has psychiatric problems too, including depression and Asperger’s. I need to get out of here… I have nothing else to say… I’m scared.