Words have taken over my life. They control me. I am alone. I am afraid. I have been bullied. Years. Beaten with words. Hated with words. Betrayed. Stabbed. Doubt traced it's way to my mind and soul. I am infected. Not loved. Stolen. Taken. Kidnapped. Someone is disturbed by me. I have no friends. I write of sorrow. I am still waking up. My safe place in life is in my music. The only thing I have. What has began. This is a terrible story. This is my life, ******* words, the thing suffocating me is my life, how pathetic. No self control. No risk's to take. No way of living. Everything written by me is disgrace to others. Shocking. "Wow, what a brilliant mind she has. She needs to be more happy though." Shut up, I will not change. Not for anyone. This is me, don't like it then don't read it. Don't ******* judge me just by looks. I am tired of hatred remarks from ones inner opinion. Cussing. Screaming. Last year, I got picked on the bus, like every single day. That one day I had enough crap from the girls at school. One guy sad the last thing and I snapped. I cried I showed him that I have a weakness, that I am weak. I still cry. When I got home that day I through my bag in the middle of the street, screaming, cussing. One true friend standing next to me telling me "Amber, it is going to be OK," Giving me hugs. While my other "friend" says, and I quote. "Amber you shouldn't put you're bag there" Then she walk the rest of the way home. I ran to my house, bag still on the street. I lock myself in the bathroom screaming, and cutting. Blood on my wrist. Tears on my face. He did it, they have done it. "ARE YOU HAPPY NOW!" Still screaming. I never speak my mind. I don't tell my feelings. Every night I cry. Every ******* night. Go ahead think that this is for the views. It's not. It is not a lie. This is real. I am real. They are fake. The words now are just mixed up. I scream, I cry. I cry, I scream. I am crying as I am typing. I just. I don't know anymore. I am just here. You are just there. We are apart. You may not understand. You may relate. I am sorry if you can. But this is one little part of my story... Welcome to my life.