I think this is the beginning of the end. My 15th birthday was almost a month ago, I wasn’t ever suppose to make it that far. I’m suppose to be dead, I want to be dead. It’s the summer where I live and everyone seems to be having the time of there life, everyone except me. I don’t leave my house, my bed to be more specific. I don’t need to leave the house in order to feel judged, I’m my worse critic. I’m not pretty enough, skinny enough, smart enough, I’m nothing that anyone wants. I don’t even like myself, let alone love myself. It’s impossible to love someone you despise. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. And I guess I’ve gotten good at hiding everything that no one even bothers anymore. Or maybe no one actually cares. I mean I wouldn’t care about me if I were another person. I’m a waste of oxygen, a waste of good organs the someone else deserves. I don’t deserve anything I have, I deserve to suffer. But I want out, I want a gun to put to my head, a rope to tie around my neck. Anything that will stop the pain, I just want to stop breathing. I can’t do this anymore, I can’t keep going on like this. But I’m just fine, thanks for not asking. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be dead and forgotten soon.