I am alone. I will always be alone. I am an outcast. Even among other foster children I'm a fucked up, unwanted, piece of shit. I'm a throw away amongst throw aways. No one wants me. No one has ever wanted me, and no one ever will.
People always think they want to be in my life, but once they get to know me, they bail. Even blog readers. I've had six people stop following my blog in the last week or two. Wow. Even strangers think I'm hopeless. Well, they are right. I am. I'm a worthless, melodramatic, horrible, good for absolutely nothing, vile, rancid, scabies infested, crusty old thrown away mattress in the middle of the desert. I'm interesting and entertaining for the adventurous, but only until they see the filth and damage that's inside of it. I'm useful for homeless people and drug addicts that need somewhere to stomp on for a while. I'm disposable. I'm disposed.
Why do people go out of their way to make me think that they want me, only to dump me in the end? I made a friend from my blog over a year ago and one day she just stopped talking to me. I asked why, and she basically said I'm too heavy and fucked up and she just doesn't want to do it anymore. Why be friend someone with a blog like mine if you think my blog is too heavy? Everyone disappears. EVERYONE. EVERYONE. EVERYONE! My relationship with my gf is over. We are just kind of stuck together right now. She's not my support system. She cannot handle seeing me freak out. No one can handle seeing me freak out.
I wish I was dead. I really fucking wish I was dead. There is nothing worth living for in this life. No one will EVER keep me. EVER. It's like I'm so thirsty for love and affection that the minute I get it, I gulp it all down until I drain the well. Once people get a peek at what's underneath my little cloak of jokes and silly little gifts, they run away, terrified for their lives.
I am a monster. I am pathetic. I am psychotic. I want to fucking die. I deserve a really horrific, painful, slow death. I deserve to suffer. Just make it stop already.