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I am alone. doomed to live a life of solitude shadowed from societies eyes. Stuck deep in the darkness with no ligh to enter my eyes and no person to save me from my fate.

I dont want pitty, infact i loathe it. I have been given pitty all my life and i dont like it. This is my story, my life, my past. Its intense i know but its true. It happened and thats that. anyway here it is:



I have just been hurt so many time that my heart is now glass held up by a breakable thread that all it takes is a small breeze to break. And if or when that string breaks again and my heart shatters, I don’t think that this time I will be able to put the pieces back together. I’m scared of death but I want it so much. Because if I die then I can come back in a new life where I wasn’t raped by my grandfather when I was 4 and again at 6 by my foster brother. where I'm not ugly as hell and someone does love me and I know won’t hurt me. Where the pain of my mothers sexual abuse isn’t there and I don’t have scares from the whip she used on me when I was with her ages 0-4 1/2, and I don’t have the need to die because nothing seems to go right. Where I can trust people. I can’t even trust my mother(adoptive) who I've been with since I was 8. If you want to talk to me about a bad life, try crying yourself to sleep every night, try not sleeping most night. Try having an anxiety attack so back u hang yourself out of a tree. Having the pain in your heart so strong that you can stick a think sharp object through your bellybutton with out freezing it and not being able to feel it. Try having your only friend being the knife by ur bed. Try knowing your going to die alone with out a family, kids a life. Feeling as hollow as an empty glass yet still feeling like your going to shatter in the breeze. Try being me for a day and then yell at me about that trust shit!!!!!!!!

All of my days and all of my nights, all I want to do is die. Death is on my mind now, as you can tell. I believe that death is just the beginning, with each death comes new life. So what would be the big deal if I were to die? Yes, people would care but I am only one in many. If it was in the newspaper people would look at it and say, “that’s so sad,” and then they would flip to the next story and move on. Why do we live when life is so easily taken? Why do we care? Who knows, all I know is that I have very little to live for but that is enough to keep me alive, either that or I’m just to chicken to go through with it.