I’m scared to be alone. I’m scared to be left out. I’m scared that everyone I know will forget about me.

I’m scared that I don’t matter - that I just take up space. Maybe that’s why I yell, maybe that’s why I laugh. Maybe that’s why I’m full of laughter. To fill the void.

I feel sick. I’m scared to be sick. I’m scared to not be sick.

I don’t know who I am, but I feel that people think they know who I am. But honestly, I’ll be whoever people want me to be - so long as I am not forgotten. Isn’t that sad?

How abnormal is it to want to be loved, to want people to chase after you, to not want to try to be loved, to not have to try to be loved.

I don’t know what love is.

I’m sick. Or maybe, I just think I am because someone in my position should be sick.

I’m sick of me, too.

***

Every part of me wants to scream and cry. Over no reason and every reason possible. I’m so confused about everything.

I don’t like who I am and I never have. And secretly I know, that if I was somebody else looking at me, I wouldn’t like me either.

***

I wish I’d just break apart into a million pieces. Maybe not break, but shatter. Because that’s how I feel. Like drowning under a hot torch while I’m wrung like a towel. This makes no sense. Exactly.

Leave me alone.

Never let me go.

***

It’s okay. I hate me too.