As I sit here at my computer desk, I look at myself in the mirror. The skin around my eyes is red and puffy from the hour or two, or three I have been crying. I notice some things about myself. I have a large face, yet too small for my larger body. My nose is too big for my face, yet my lips, and eyes are much too small. My face sort of looks like that of one of the Dalmatians on the 101 Dalmatians. My hands are too small for my arms, which are too large for the rest of my body. The rest of my body is larger than I've always wanted it to be. Much larger. Yet I'm too lazy to do anything about it. I dress like an old lady, in clothes that could only look good on a thin girl, much taller than I. They certainly do not flatter me. I think hard. I hate this town. I hate everything about it. I hate that everywhere I go, things remind me of my dead father, grandfather and uncle. I hate that I honestly don't have many friends. None that would truely care that much if I left. They might be sad, but they'd be most likely angry. Angry that I left them. Because as always, I'm not allowed to do what makes me happy, but what makes them happy. They'd go on about how selfish I am and how I'd be throwing my life away and it'd be stupid that I'd be leaving them after all they've done for me. What have they done for me ? They've talked about me behind my back, then denied it to my face. They must think I'm really stupid. Obviously I'm a very flawed person, and my friends like to share their feelings as to what they think of others. To gossip, if you will. What makes them think I'm stupid enough to believe that they don't talk about me behind their backs, and only talk about others, I will never know. I think about how hard I've tried to keep them happy and to keep myself smiling for them. How much I've cheered them up when they've been depressed, and how when I'm depressed they get angry at me and tell eachother how stupid and annoying it is that I get "randomly depressed", when really I've had a rough battle with depression for quite a few years now. I then think about my boyfriend. How he's going through a rough patch too, and I can't be there for him. I think of how happy I would be living in the same town as he. I have true friends there. Many times more than the amount I have here. I think of how nice it would be, just to start fresh, meet new faces, see new sights. How I love to travel. I think of how nice it would be to be there to help my boyfriend out in his times of trouble. I've nearly chewed a hole on my cheek due to frustration that I can't take away all the pain he's dealing with. How I wish I could just help him through it all so he could be happy, and how cliche and stupid this whole thing is sounding to you. I think about how much I care about him. How I'd honestly do anything for him. How much I effort I put into certain things. Then I think about how pathetic I am. How I never believe something when it's told to me. How I never can enjoy when something happens to me because I know something bad is going to come along right after, because that's what always seems to happen. I think back to my childhood. I think back to my father. I think back to my mother. How much I miss being happy. I ask myself when the last time I was honest to god happy. Through and through. Sure, I'm happy right now. I'm happy with my boyfriend. I'm happy with a few things. But there are still these emotions I am bottling up. I think about how I know I'm going to grow to be messed up. It scares me. I think about how much pain my mother goes through everyday, how I can't do anything to help her pain subside. I help her around the house, yes. But when I'm older, I think about what's going to happen to her. I feel selfish. I think about how I'm probably not going to be able to go out and live my life because who will take care of her ? I think about how selfish I am. I wonder why people put up with me. I wonder why I'm not good enough. I sigh. I take a deep breath. I think about how stupid I feel. How pathetic and stupid I feel. I think about how evil people are. How the human race had become so reliant on material things. How no one does anything for themselves anymore. I think about how people have become so selfish. So inconsiderate. I wonder if I'm in considerate. I look around. I think about how many times my mother has asked me to clean my room. I think of how many times I have put it off. I think about how lazy I am. I know that my future is brittle. I see it crumbling away like a toothpick structure turned to ash by flame. I think about how I never finish things. How I never do anything. I get angry. I wish I could talk to someone, but I think about how I also don't want to. I think about how stubborn I am. Always wanting what I can't have. Always wanting something. Always longing something. I think about how I'm just another one of those stupid people I hate so much. Always wanting, and never satisfied. I think about how I don't deserve to be on this planet. I wish I was amazing like my boyfriend thinks I am. I wish I could do something amazing. The truth is, I'm no good at anything. Whenever I try something, I am always topped by one of my friends. I doubt that anyone will read it. I look at the time. 6 hours before I'll talk to anyone. 6 more hours of laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I wish I could move. I wish I could just start over. I realize I have been saying this too often. As I sit here at my computer desk, I look at myself in the mirror. I realize I haven't realized what I've wanted to realize.