The negativity By - CLara

As the pain in my head subsides, here comes the inevitable. My thoughts. They creep in from all angles pushing through my weak spots, doubting me, mocking me. what am i? not even worth a phone call. The image that i hand out to people is nothing more than a mask...a mask thrown on every day;faithfully. Only to come to the place i call home and die inside. Few people understand what hating your very existence is like...No. This is not only physical hatred...because your appearance can always be changed. Its something more. The hatred of your own personality. Oh how weak and affected i am by my surroundings...crawling in my room to lie on the floor and let the tears flow relentlessly. How all of my actions are uncared for...by even myself sometimes. Who cares if i were to throw myself off of a cliff. Oh how i wish i could do that very thing. Fling myself over great heights and into thrashing water. Never to surface. Its not like anyone would care much. a few tears at my burial...and thats all. A few flowers on my grave so that the shameless can go about their saturday parties cursing me for a wasted 45 minutes. Lately my tears are comforting; crying for no reason, then for all the reason in the world. i beg them please dont near me. i need no one closer because that then gives them the oppurtunity to hurt me further. I am broken. Both inside and out. With the plastic smile painted on my face and the giggles of a teen. Why do i put the charade up you ask? Because, i want them to think that people care for me. That i have love&care. that there is something more than what they see in my face. Doesnt everybody want that? My best friends? Ben and Jerry's Phish Food. My favorite place? The bathroom. Not for the reasons you might assume but because there is the place i can lock myself in and question the girl i see in the mirror...i shoot her smile with my glares and scream at her to be a BETTER PERSON!! i make her cry by flashing her my disgusted looks and then...ever so sublty, i turn to the shower. So that i could cry and they could be washed away. So that not only could i distract myself with the burning water but so that i can also mope alone and without audience. After coming out of the shower, i walk into my room and press my cheek against the cold floor. My mind begs for the stage where i might lose consciousness but all that happens is Pain. The pain in my heart takes over and mocks me. and eventually i lose myself to the negatitvity...