sitting in my room
while i sit in my room listening to my chemical romance i realize, im not ok. my life is a waste of eternal existence and i wish to the joke some people refer to as god to end it. i look at the box of razors that i just bought from home depot and wonder how many of them will i use before the cut goes deep enough to end my suffering. there is a girl named allicia gibson that i talk to sometimes from my school. Her emoness is almost as pathetic as my own. she is a very pretty girl i jsut wish that i i could tell her that. i wish i wasnt such a pussy and i could admit to girls that i like them. if only my dad didnt yell at me for not cleaning my room when i was younger, maybe then i could tell her how i feel. i guess since i cant tell her how i feel im going to cut myself on the thigh that way noone can see it and i can deny it and go on living a horribly torchered life but noone will know about it except for the people that read this. which is noone except for jamie zollars and she doubts my torchered soul. i have hair that covers my eyes to shield me from the visable pains of the world and i cut myself when i feel emotional pain.