Does anyone notice that I don't really have headaches? That I just blindly take these pills, wondering, as they slide down my throat, if they can possibly numb this dull pain inside my chest?

Why is it even possible to be this unhappy? I don't think I've ever cried so many times a day; so many days in a row. My eyes are never dry anymore—I'm always on the verge of bursting into tears. Meanwhile, the teachers think I'm wearing sunglasses indoors just to be rebellious.

It's a terrible feeling when you greet your parents and your mother ignores you. It's also a terrible feeling when you come home from hell (read: school) and she looks at you in disgust and even ignores your friend's "hello", forcing you to explain that it's not you she hates, it's me. I'm sorry. All this because you made one mistake. I should have died at birth. I wish I had. Perhaps then, I wouldn't be such a disappointment to everyone I come in contact with.

Would it really be so bad if I killed myself? The thing is, I would make an effort to stay alive, but I'm just so ******* tired. I'm tired of all these tears, letting everyone down, being so insecure, being treated like complete **** and then being expected not to be fazed by it. I'm just ******* tired. I'm tired I'm tired I'm tired I'm tired I'm tired. And I'm hurt.

Suicide could be the answer if I let it be. I just want peace.