“You’re great!”

no, im fucking not. wanna know why?

what im putting up right now is a facade. in reality, im a terrible person. and i wouldnt blame you, except you keep pushing it. acting like you know more about myself then i do. no, im not great. ive killed. maybe not directly, but my actions resulted in a death, which at the end of the day would be the same as taking a knife and stabbing her myself. same long term effect anyways. wiped off this earth. the one person who i felt understood me, the one person who i felt made life worth living. i took that spark in my life, stomped on it and spat on it. and then i missed the funeral for a birthday party. like i didnt even fucking care. and of course it doesnt end there. im also a closet fucking sadist. i have vivid fantasies of torturing all the shitheads ive had the displeasure of associating with. childhood bullies, principles. even a few for my parents, even though they’ve done their best. im despicable. why else would they torture me with words. fat, ugly, worthless, meaningless. they were probably right. and what am i doing for redemption? sitting here feeling sorry for myself because if i face the reality of my situation, my mind would shatter. i just try to hold onto the hope that my depression and my self destructive thoughts wont creep back in like they always do. dont even do anything to help the people around me and actively make them worse off for having me here. and i know i talk about having a future and college when i know in the back of my mind ill either die by my own hand or wind up drugged in a tiny apartment working minimum wage because, as if being a fucking murderer, self-destructive sociopath wasnt enough. my mind is too black to be of use. rip down your fucking fantasy curtain, ill rip down mine, so you can look at me and see the truth.

“You’re great!”

what a fucking joke