I ain't no Goth, bitch!

Ok, let's get something straight. Unlike Goth kids, my pain is real, my parents are shitty people (especially you, Pa -- asking me if I'm asleep a million times, ya creepy jerk! Why don't you just break down the fucking door, you only-nice-when-you-need-something-from-me asshole!), and I do try to get off my ass and give life a chance. Sure, I do obsess about things I cannot change, but I do not have fun being miserable. You think feeling depressed and crying is good times? So depressed that in 5 days, it will be two months since I had my period? My body's so stressed that I'm getting hives! I need some respite. Otherwise, I will reach a point where recovery will be extremely difficult. My body can only take so much trauma. And God obviously wants to teach me a lesson all the time about how wrong I am, all the freaking time!

And Butters, you must have lost your mind cuz there's no such thing as a beautiful sadness, you crying little pussy! And it does sound stupid!

Life is pain. Life is only pain. . . . But there's only blackness. Dark, depressing loneliness that eats at your soul.
Love didn't work for my mom and dad. Why should it work for me?
My dad is such an asshole. Drunken bastard doesn't even know I exist. . . . Just an excuse for my mom to bitch at me for not wearing girly clothes like all the Britney Spears wannabes at this school.