So. Life sucks. I have a slideshow on the manhattan project due monday, and I'll be busy allday tommorrow because "You should join boy scouts. It'll help you get into a good college!". I also have a stupid fucking essay on my name due in a week. I don't really want to do anything but lay here and sleep. I scare myself because I know how to make a smoke bomb, except breathing in the smoke will kill you/knock you out for several hours, depending on what I use to make it. Um...I feel like shit because of my ex. I don't really know how to say I'm sorry, because all I've ever done is run from my problems. Any time I have a responsibility in anything, I attempt to avoid it. I can't stand to see other people hurt, but I love to hurt other people and myself. My mom thinks the only way I'll ever amount to anything is if I go to college like she wants me to, even though I have my own plans. I don't get to see my dad very often, because my parents are divorced, and my mom has custody this year. I forgot how to cry, and what it feels like to be sad. I want to get into shape, but I can't force myself to eat anymore. I'm ashamed of myself, because I hurt my ex, and I would have given anything for her to be happy. At the same time I'm pissed at myself for feeling that way, because we broke up for stupid reasons, and it was inevitable anyway. Everyone around me is pressuring me to go to church and listen to some old preacher yell "JESUS!" or whatever it is they do in churches. My entire body aches for one reason or another. Knives are sharp. Pillows are soft. Fire is hot. Ice is cold. I think I'm insane. None of my friends want to talk to me, because they already didn't like me and blame me for the breakup, or don't want to make things awkward. Everyone that does talk to me, I can't have a real conversation with, because everyone seems to be afraid I'll do...something? I don't know. I'm disconnected from my own body most of the time, and feel like someone else is driving, while I watch. I hate everything about myself. I'm too smart for my own good. I'm self-centered. I hurt everything I touch, even when I'm trying to protect it. I can't tell my family anything, because they either don't care or will tell me to "Shut the fuck up and deal." I'm so tempted to do something stupid like cut myself into ribbons, but to cowardly to do it. I hate everything about myself, and only want someone to smile because of me. But no one will. And I blame myself for it. I'll probably have a party the next time I cry, because it's been so long. Oh, and I feel like I have no right to feel this way. Did I say that? Who cares. I don't.