woke up in another pool of blood. engulfed in sweat, but all i really wanted was not to wake up at all.
ungrateful bitch. all you think about is yourself. you do not give a fuck about anybody but you. how can i only care about me when all that i want is to be dead?
old friends are trying to drag me into a life of crack pipes & dirty dollar bills. all that i've known for the past year is clean. good grades, hard work. no freedom. maybe it hurts, maybe it's lonely, but i'm not going to let them take me with them. i hurt myself enough that i don't need it from the outside too.
there is no other word for someone like me other than disgusting. how can i let my happiness swing on the lap of a man, it's nothing other than pathetic.
some ugly bitch told me a long time ago that she was more depressed than me. but she would not take medication, because her & her mother thought it would "change her." she would have to deal with her depression with traditional therapy. you know what i say to you now bitch. you & your mother are fucking whores. you know it's true more than i do. & ask me for the proof even though it's written in the air all around the both of you. you tried to make me feel weak with your condescending remarks about medication. but my arms aren't the ones with scars all over them are they? the difference is that i am not depressed for attention. when you are hanging over suicide on a strand of dental floss, then you tell me you don't need medication.
fuck you, all of you.
written on 2003-06-13 at 11:52 p.m.
she / lost