I Don't Know Why I'm Writing This When I Don't Want You to Know. . .

Why is it that I have so many issues? I was left by both my fathers, I've been bullied my whole life, gotten into more fights and gotten attacked more times than I can count, I have no friends in real life that I can tell everything to. Why is it I have panic attacks and depression? Why is it that I hate pain but always want to slice my skin open? It's weird, I know some people care but I want to die. Even when I'm talking to people right now, I want to hurt myself. Even when I'm in a conversation I'll have to make sure they can't hear me cry. I hate myself. I shouldn't. But i do. I find myself unworthy of existing. If you were to kill me I would thank you. If you were to slowly torture me, I'd smile and be extremely grateful. I know that some people want me to stop, want me to not harm myself, want me to live. Yet the thought of myself in agony, dying, entices me. I don't want to tell people because I don't want to be stopped. I don't even know why I'm writing this now, because I know they'll see this. I'm actually on a call with them right now, and I muted my microphone, because I started sobbing. I don't even know what to write or type. Nothing I could say could describe how I feel accurately. So, to those who care: I'm sorry. But I can't help it. Shall I be selfish and ask?: Help me? Please? I'm sorry, I have no right to ask. . .  I don't know why I'm writing this, I don't want you to know how I feel. And I said I don't want to be stopped. I guess I'm lying to myself. I'm a damned mystery to myself.

Sticks and stones?

No.

Knives and pens?

No.

Pills and nails?

No.

What than?

My thoughts and Me,

Will be the death of me.

I Am Me. Are You You?

I am Me.

I am the only me.

I am real; the real me.

Who are you?

Are you the only you?

How do you know?

If, perhaps, you are not the only you. . .

Are you the real you?

How do you know?

If, perchance, you are not the real you. . .

Is there a real you at all?

How do you know?

Do you know at all?

Do you exist at all?

How do you know?

Do you know?

Who are you?

And, who am I?

To be talking to you;

Who may or may not exist?

I think therefore I am.

Do you think?

Are you?

How do you know?

Do you know?

Do you really know?

What if you are only a (day)dream?

Do you exist?

Or are you only an echo?

Or maybe a figment of an imagination?

Are you a thing?

Are you real or existant at all?

How do you know?

The one and the only; the real me:

Is Me.

I am.

Are you?

Who or what are you? (If you are at all)

And why are you? (If, in fact, you are)

Do you hold this 'fact' as truth?

As correct?

How do you know? 

Do you know?

How could you know?

You can't.

You don't.

You never will.

You never could.

Motivation!

With every day the sun rises and sets. And with time and it's endless motion life will go on. With or without you. There are many choices in life but I believe the most important choice anyone makes is the choice to be involved with the world and others, the choice to live and not simply exist. No, I may not be very positive and I may be contradicting of myself but I'm me, and I'll never deny that. I'll claim to be awesome,and I'll lie and even say I'm fine. People do that. So long as you leave your heart open, you'll always find a way, a will, a friend. You'll always be loved and you'll never be alone. If you ever feel that way, you can think of me, because even if I don't know you I know you are precious, beautiful, and how much you matter! Even if I don't know you I am and always will be your friend.

This Is Just Pictures From Seven Hours on Photo-Shop

I Categorize My Friends and I Have Nervous Habits

Group #1- Oxygen Friends: These are the friends I know and love and could not live without. My friends in this category are NJ, Xeno, Brown, Zeepees, and Cannon. Ironically I've never met these people in real life. I don't even really know these people and yet I need them. I love them. That's bad, isn't it? My "best friend" of five years doesn't fall in this category. Unlike S (my "best friend") I can tell them everything.

Group #2- Medicinal Friends: These are friends I don't need. I could live without them rather easily. They help me a lot, but I don't need them. They know me pretty well but not everything. Bon-Bon, Alex, S., and Danny Phantom fall in this category.

Group #3- Squad Friends: The people I hang with but don't really know well. I hang out with them when I'm with them but other than that I don't talk with them. They know the part of me I don't hide.

Group #4- Acquaintances: Enough said? I'll talk with them. I don't normally want to see them. I lie to them about who I am. Most of my family falls here.

Group #5-  Strangers: Enough said. I may know them, they don't know me. Ironically out of all the groups aside from my "Oxygen Friends" they know the most about me if they observe. How I'm always quiet or fidgeting.

By the way my fidgeting is a nervous habit, I always do it. No matter what, I'm always doing something, normally mouthing words or humming quietly. If I do this when I'm around someone it means I really don't want to lose them.

This is My Bad Habit

I care about everything, way too much. There is literally no one dead or alive I would seriously hurt in any way if I could avoid it. I don't think I even have the physical or mental capabilities to hate anyone but myself. And I'm constantly scared of hurting, holding back, or being a detriment to others. So, I try to distance myself from others. I'm used to being left after a while anyway so it saves me the pain. I hide my emotions; I don't like letting people know how I feel. Especially because I can't stand seeing anyone hurt. So I act like I don't care so I don't get too close or attatched and so I can't hurt them.

You Told Me to Update and You Always Seem to Want to Know My Thoughts

This is for someone who means a lot to me. A thank you of sorts. I've never met you in person, and rarely hear your voice. There are many periods of time we don't even text because of me being to shy or even scared to talk to you, for fear of hurting you or making you hate me. And yet every time I muster up the courage, you're there for me. I've hurt you so much. I've betrayed you. Deceived you. And I never deserved you. But you loved me. And even when I broke you, you forgave me and remained my friend. You still find it in your heart to love me as a friend. You still never leave or hurt me. You've helped me so much. You pick me up when I fall and make me smile through the tears. You never stopped supporting me. When I felt worthless, depressed, full of rage, when I cut, when I wanted nothing more than to die, you were there. To stop me, to soothe me, to make me feel like I was worth something, loved, cared for, and listened to. We've never met in person. I rarely hear your voice. I end up avoiding even messaging you at all at times. I haven't even known you for very long. But here you are. So thank you. For everything. For saying hello when we first met. For talking with me. For being my friend. For staying with me. For putting up with me. For loving me. For helping me. For being there for me. For being you! For everything! Thank you! I don't deserve you and nothing I can say or write or scream can ever convey my gratitude and love for you. I love you. Thank you! And I'm sorry. I'm so so so intensely sorry for everything I've done to hurt you. And I'll do whatever I can to make sure I never do it again. I'll do my best to make you happy. And I'll do whatever I can to be as great of a friend as you are to me. So, I ask you selfishly, stay with me, for as long as we can remain together? Allow me to try to be worthy of you. I'm sorry. I love you. I don't deserve you. Thank you.
Honestly; I could never stop feeling this way about you. So once again, I love you.

P-p-please, don't l-l-leave me. . .
B-b-but, y-you p-p-p-probably sh-should. . .