I just don’t know anymore…

I think I hate myself… no wait, I know I hate myself.
I’m just sick of everything. I’m sick of the pressure to try and fit in, to try and have friends, to look good so people talk to me.
I’m sick of being a people pleaser, of hurting other people.
I’m such a f*cking *****.
I wish i could stop thinking straight. I wish I could let go of my obsessions. I wish I could run away and be alone forever. I wish I could slash up every inch of my body. Anything to get away from this f*cked sense of reality I’ve learned to call life.
I’m sick of being used by my friends, of putting on a fake face, of trying so hard to do things and never getting there in the end.
I’m sick of being yelled at. I’m sick of being judged. I’m sick of having trust issues, but I guess that’s what happens when everyone thinks you’re stupid, ignorant and lost.
It’s not my fault I can’t relate to people. It’s not my fault I can’t stop making up shit in my head. It’s not my fault I come across as weird, I just can’t deal with the world I live in.
I just can’t deal with the wars being fought in my head every second of the day.
If only they knew why i always looked tired, why i never finished my work on time, why I always had headaches, or why I always had bruises.
Every one thinks I’m a nerd, that i have no social life, that I don’t have feelings, that I don’t need a boyfriend when they’re wrong.I can’t hold myself together for that long around people, i don’t want them to be there when i break down, when I fall apart, like I do day after day.
If only they knew i spent every night fighting with myself to stop cutting. If only they knew I didn’t sleep because I feel like I don’t deserve to dream. If only my friends and family knew I shower for 40 minutes because i was fighting to keep my food down. If only every one didn’t describe me as the happiest person they know. If only every one knew the bruises on my legs were from me hitting myself. If only every one knew the cuts on my body were never accidental. If only they knew the real me.
Im sick of never being appreciated. Im sick of never being noticed. Im sick of every one not bothering to understand who I am.
I’m tired of everything hurting. I’m sick of dealing with pain. I can’t handle the anxiety attacks that come with the realisation of the truth. I can’t handle it so I pretend it’s not happening.
No one likes me. My mother wishes she never raised me. My brother thinks im a *****. My friends ignore me, use me, and avoid me. Because nobody wants me.
People are f*cking embarassed by me.
I’m sick of thinking the world revolves around me. I’m sick of being self centered. I’m sick of wanting to be pretty. I’m sick of exercising to try and be skinny. I’m sick of hating myself for being a f*ck up without a proper reason.
But most of all, I’m just sick of trying…
I want to stop sleeping so my life can just be a dream.
I want to stop eating so there’s no food for me to keep down.
I want to stop smiling because I can’t handle being fake.
I want to stop breathing because I just can’t f*cking cope with all of this pain.
I honestly don’t know anymore… why should I even bother.