I was an anoreixic.
I killed my body, and tourtured my mind.
Everyday was a fight.
I was a bulemic.
I trashed my soul and raped my body.
I puked my problems into the toilet and tried to flush them away,
only to have the void return in seconds.
I was manic-depressive type 2.
It was a lie from the begining.
I wish you wouldn't try to diagnose me with anything.
I was a miserable human.
I hated myself.
But so did everyone else, and it's easier to do the same.
My pain..
It was easier than you knowing I hated you.
I tried to do it right, and everything I ever did
was wrong, or not good enough.
I had A.D.H.D.
Doesn't your kid? Sorry, I happen to talk. Alot.
I have that disorder about hating adults.
No, I really don't.
I was clinically depressed.
Thanks guys for all the attention.
I was cutting myself. I wanted to focus on something other than the mental pain.
I was burning myself. It was an excuse.
The only thing I was doing
was coping with this doped out society.
I wanted to die.
I love living now, but the pain doesn't leave.
Fuck you mom,
you helped me feel worthless, alone, and unwanted.
Thanks so much dad, for hardly ever being there.
I get that it's not your fault that you too are a victim of the world
and money and a greedy selfish needy wife.
I'm sorry you made the wrong choice.
I'm sorry you couldn't have kids.
I wish I knew my mother. I wish I wasn't ao alone.
Constantly I feel no connection with anyone, other than my
sigifigant other.
And every day I try to fill this void.
I have panic-anxiety disorder.
But it's getting better.
It's hard to function when they've taught you to be perfect and you still aren't making the cut.
I struggle with my self image, but it's getting better.
I want to be the president, ok?
Then I can be the ruler everyone gets to try to measure up to.
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