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I’m lost, confused; angry at myself, yet I portray my anger at others to hide my insecurities. I am a sadist, I hate it. I hate it so much, yet I can’t help it. I want to stop hurting, but I cannot control myself. I made my mother cry today. I blamed her for what I am, I blamed her for who she is. She always let’s me do whatever I want. She never says no. Nor does she ever try to stop me. Does she care? I push limits, boundaries, nothing I do phases her. I wipe my feet all over this woman and yet she refuses to react. Why? Why? I hate her for it. I hate her for being so weak, so passive, so careless. She is a lost, tortured child trapped inside an adults body. Is it selfish to say she wasn’t a good candidate for motherhood? I dread seeing myself become a mother. I never want it to happen. In anger, I see myself living and dying alone, just like always. I never had a real relationship. I always felt like I was just wanted for sex. I always manipulated and emotionally tormented those partners. I never opened up and let my guard down, my vulnerability show. I would rather torture you and dump you first before you get a chance to do that do me. Though I did love once. I was an anti social freak all throughout school, until I met Alex. She took me in, made me feel wanted, introduced me to drugs and boys. Drugs revolutionized my being. I was finally able to have real conversations with real people. I fell in love with her. For years I would bow at her every whim, figuratively kiss the ground she walked on. But she was much more sadistic than I. She used my love to her advantage. Finally this summer I had enough of her psychotic outbreaks and abuse and told her to not speak to me no more…but ever since I learned how lonely I truely am. I don’t have any real friends. She was the closest thing. Who do I talk to? Who can I tell my secrets, my passions, desires, share my troubles with? Who? Nobody. I cannot figure out how to communicate with others. I scare them, they think I’m insane. I am a wolf in sheep’s clothing trying to fit in with the herd, but they see right through me and run away.I don’t want to be alone. We’re social creatures. We’re meant to network and file share and connect with one another. But it’s like my server is down, and nobody can fix it. I often fantasize of death. Will it be pleasuresome? Will my conscience rise out of my body feeling light, relieved, and free? where will it go after? It’s thrilling to think about. If only I was free of all my moral obligations to this family, I would gladly die. I wish they didn’t love me, I wish I didn’t have to provide support for them, I wish they would not want anything to do with me. Ahh how freeing that would be. No one to shame you, judge you, feel like your not living up to their expectations. Fuck. I don’t really love them, but I feel like I can’t leave them when their so helpless themselves.