In the end, it's always going to come down to me. I know that and have known that for a long time. Some terrible **** happened, but there's nothing I can do about that now. I can't change it and I can't forget it. I'm left with what feels like a shell. But it still comes down to me. Whether damage was done by myself or others, I'm the only one who can fix it. That fact doesn't comfort me. After all, why should it when I'm the one who doesn't even want to try? For myself, that is. The things I'm willing to do for the people I love doesn't really have a lot of restrictions. Yes, for them I want to be better. That's a battle in itself.

I feel like I'm rambling, probably because I am. My existence is ever wavering, like always. At this point I'm a broken record. "I don't want to live anymore." No ****, leigheas. Say something people don't already know. In fact, toughen up buttercup. Lift your head, puff your chest and move the **** on. Stop being such a *****. Grow up.

"I don't need the courage to work, I want the strength to quit."

I'm sick with something right now, which isn't helping my mood. Could just be some kind of infection or whatever but I really don't care. Today, whenever anyone tries to talk to me, I just get irrationally pissed off. I don't know why other people acknowledging my presence has this effect on me right now. I'm keeping quiet, pretending nothing's wrong, but it gets even worse when they show affection. Try to give me a hug and I have to supress the urge to shout and even possibly get violent. It isn't all of the time, in fact most of the time I don't care, but I've been having bouts of irritability like this over the course of a month. I don't know why.

Alright, enough of me whining like a child. I might delete all of this. I mean, what's the point in keeping it up? **** it all. **** life. **** all of this **** in my head. **** those bastards who did this to me. And **** me for becoming just as pathetic as they always said I was.

There you go life. You win. Now ****ing finish me off.