I don’t need a fucking title

I don’t even know why I’m writing this. It’s my mind loop. These thoughts just run over and over again every day. I’m alone. I’m so alone. I have no one I can really talk to, and the people I do talk to I do because I don’t want anyone to suspect anything’s wrong. I stopped contact with all of my friends in September, so they didn’t have to deal with me anymore. Every day, I see all of them having the perfect life, and I want to go talk to them SO BADLY, but then I remember, they’re only having that perfect life because I’m not there, but then again, that might be giving me too much credit. I hate school. Everyone says that, because it’s long, or boring, or hard, but I actually HATE school. It’s pointless. 8 hours a day, to go to sleep, and go back for 8 hours a day, and then two days before the cycle starts all over again. That’s what work will be like in 10 years. And then when we’re done working, we’ll be too old to really live. I can’t live in that cycle. The war with my dad isn’t going well. I know any week now, he’s going to do something that’ll make me angry, and I’ll explode at him over text or e-mail, which he’ll forward to everyone in our family, who will get one step closer to hating me. I wish he would die. Aren’t I a fucking bundle of fun? I hate this sadness. I hate feeling like this even when good stuff happens. I hate not being able to talk to anyone. I hate not being able to make my dad stop. I hate not being able to break free of this cycle. I hate not being able to kill myself, because the only method available is a knife, which I’m too mentally weak to use. I hate not being able to get help, because it’ll make me be the problem for everyone for the umpteenth time. I hate being trapped. I hate this.