self.loathing:F A M I L Y S(yste)M
There’s really nothing that can be said about this. If you’re uncomfortable with curse words, self hatred, and family issues; don’t read.
FUCK YOU
I DIDN’T KNOW WE WERE SELFISH SEVEN YEAR OLDS
SORRY, NOT EVERYONE CAN BE LIKE YOU
(MANIPULATIVE, SADISTIC BITCHES WHO FEEL THE NEED TO BRING PEOPLE DOWN)
SO FUCK IT
FUCK YOU
I’LL LEAVE IT IN A HEAP OF CHOKEABLE PIECES AT YOUR DOOR
SEE HOW THE FUCK THAT MAKES YOU FEEL
CLAIM YOUR FUCKING PROPERTY
I HAVE NO QUALMS WITH KILLING FAMILY
AT LEAST THAT’S WHAT WE USED TO BE
(BEFORE I TRY AND BORROW SOMETHING THAT‘S YOURS)
SO FUCK IT
FUCK YOU
TAKE THIS LITTLE FUCKING MATERIAL ITEM OF YOURS
AND BACK THE FUCK OFF ME
AND HERE, HAVE THIS BULLET TOO
IT’S A GIFT
IT’S YOURS NOW
CLAIM YOUR FUCKING PROPERTY
I fucking hate my family. It’s all full of bitches, skanks, cows, asses, alcoholics, drug addicts, cunts, and mother fuckers. They can all burn in hell for all I care. Think I have a problem for wanting to die? YOU THINK I HAVE A PROBLEM FOR WANTING TO DIE? It’s just so I can get the fuck away from this shit. GOD WONT FORGIVE YOU FOR BEING CONSTANT BITCHES TO EVERYONE. He will forgive me for hating people like y-o-u.
So what?
I HATE MYSELF
I never even learned to like myself, is that so bad? IS THAT A CRIME? How do you think? You don’t. If I could be as narcissistic as you maybe I wouldn’t have done that in junior high. If I was as selfish as you maybe that wouldn’t have happened in high school. If I was as manipulative as you maybe I’d be like you (I’d rather slit my own throat).
But at least I’ve been loved
as a lover, not as some fucking slut side friend.
AT LEAST I DON’T SUCK COCK TO MAKE BOYS LIKE ME.
You disgust me.
How can I even think of loving you when all you do is try to control me?
How can I even think if loving any of you when all you’ve done is shun me since the day I was born?
How do you expect me to call you family?
Call me selfish, call me damned, but hell
Sometimes you all make me feel like dying.
And I don’t care what you’ve got to say about that.
Does me keeping quiet about it make you feel less guilty?
Well fuck you.
Don’t help me. Don’t help me. Don’t help me. Don’t help me. Don’t help me. Don’t help me.
Whisper behind my back as usual and let’s see if that makes a difference.
Nope, guess not. GUESS NOT.
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Maybe when I’m older I can deal with this myself. And maybe I’ll die young like I said I would in seventh grade.