I love you.
and maybe to you, this is overreacting.
it can't be.
if I was overreacting, I'd already be dead.
I don't tell people everything thats wrong.
people don't care about things like that,
I've learned, so I don't tell anyone.
it builds up inside, until I feel I can't hide it anymore.
I don't need you thinking that it's all the surface things that go on.
it's not.
no one wants to hear my fucking story.
no one needs to.

everyday I feel like a constant waste of space.
I hate to be sad, but I am a lot.
I feel so awkward, shy, quiet, weird, stupid, whateverrrrrrr...
and I hate it.