Vent

I have enough emotional baggage to write a FUCKING book.

What I've learned from my parents:
No one loves you
Don't expect much.

I feel like my brain is going to explode about every time I look at the woman who spit me out of her body.
I hate myself because of how much I love my family. That's the only reason all of all of this hurts.

Nothing has changed since I'd been 11. I can't remember a time when I felt accepted and wanted. EVER.
My mom made she I knew what a mistake I was.

Thank the gods I'm creative enough to channel this all into something. Writing and starving.

The pain inside my stomach eclipses every other pain. I know that I'm much better than the fat whores sitting around this house.

I'm going to disown my grandmother.