They don’t think “I care,” “I hurt,” or “I have feelings.” It just seems like I’m always “wrong,” always “selfish,” always “self-centered” and everything else that’s negative and destructive.

Sometimes fantasies are better than life.

This morning when I left Mom's parting words were, Come straight home after school. Wow! Like I'm going to get stoned at 3:30—it doesn't sound so bad at that.

Alone. The saddest word in the world.

I’ve got to sleep. Sleep is my only way to escape.

They have accepted me as an individual, as a personality, as an entity. I belong! I am important! I am somebody!

My biggest mistake: not wanting to help myself into thinking I am happy, that change would come about without really trying to change, or wanting to change. Procrastinating about changing. I do want to change.

The complete bottom has fallen out of my life.

Lying - remembering beauty in truth.

Maybe the new me will be different.

How can thoughts hurt so much when they aren't even physical?

I can't believe that I changed so little. I expected to look old and hollow and gray, but I guess it's only me on the inside that has shriveled and deteriorated.

I wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone in this whole world. I wouldn't hurt them physically or emotionally, how then can people so consistently do it to me? Even my parents treat me like I'm stupid and inferior and ever short. I guess I'll never measure up to anyone's expectations. I surely don't measure up to what I'd like to be.

Why is life so difficult? Why can't we be just ourselves and have everyone accept us the way we are?

I'm not really sure which parts of myself are real and which parts are things I've gotten from books.

It's a good thing most people bleed on the inside or this would be a gory, blood-smeared earth.