Mmm... thoughts of suicide again. I hate when I get like this. I try to explain my frustration to my mother, but she just can't comprehend. I still love her though. She is truly my rock.

I don't like crying myself to sleep at night, because I hate my job and I hate myself for letting everything bother me. I hate that I can't control my nasty eating habits that are killing me inside. I hate that I can't tell anyone how I really feel. I'm so emotional.

And so why did I have to look like a fool the other day asking how someone's father was (had been in the hospital) and they died. What the f**k? Wow, I guess my concern that I showed doesn't give you reason to let me know that he did. No one cares about me or what I think. I'm just a s**t wad on the bottom of everyone's foot. And I hate when people pretend to care about me, and they don't. They DON'T! I can't live for trying to live.

How can you not feel living in this world like ending it would not be a good decision? I try to tell myself it's not. I try. But I'm really of no value to anyone. I hate my body, full of every unsightly and unattractive thing that despises me. Honestly, sometimes I can't look in the mirror without feeling nauseated. I'm so worthless...so very.