Please! I really need your help on this!

Please, watch this and share as much as possible! I need to make this happen! It is the first thing that I have had any passion for in a long time, and I would love if it worked out!!! Please comment and like! Thank you guys so much, this is really important to my and my collegues!


Dear Mom…

Dear mom,

I don’t know what I did wrong… Was I bad as a kid? Am I that much of a failure? Do you regret me? Was I one of those parts of your life that you ‘like to forget’? Well, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I ruined your life. I truly wish that I hadn’t been your child. It probably would’ve been better. I just want to know how you could raise a child, and then hate it so much…? Is it me? Or would it have been this way regardless? Do you even care? Ugh, I spend so much time thinking about…you. About how you hate me, about how you want nothing to do with me,and especially about how you regret me. Why? Do I deserve it? Should I be in this position? If you’d had a prettier daughter, or maybe a son; would you be the same? Would you have treated ¬†them better? Am I just not worth your ‘precious’ time? Well, you know what? I DONT CARE! I absolutely DO NOT CARE!! ūüĎą if you can’t see that human beings deserve some level of decency, then that’s a reflection of you…not me. So, as far as I’m concerned; you can take your bitchin somewhere else.

Yours Nevermore,


Anxiety Attacks?!

So, I got an anxiety attack on Monday that lasted 30 minutes…?! Why does this happen to me? The stress in my life literally is having a physical effect on my body. If you’ve never had an anxiety attack, the best way I can describe it to you is feeling like you can’t breathe when you know you can. It’s awful. I have been taking so much crap lately about my scars. I really don’t mind them, I mean; they’re just reminders of what i’ve been through and what I came out of, you know? I hate when people ask me if I think they’re ugly. I don’t. I think they’re just another part of me. They’re probably going to be there forever, so I’ll just accept them now. Thinking that scars are ugly is the same as thinking that your face is ugly; you can’t change it, so just get used to it. I wish things could be diiferent. I wish I didn’t live in this hell that is my daily reality. I wish that someone would come and drag me away, and just keep pulling until I can’t see my past. I have always felt like no one cares, you know? That nothing would change if I was gone; but the thing is: it’s not true. I need to just keep telling myself that there are people who genuinly care about me, and a lot of things would be different if I was gone. I need to keep telling myself that I haven’t fallen to far to love, because God will always love me…but it’s hard sometimes…you know?

The Backstory

For those of you who asked:

My history,

My mom got pregnant with me as an unmarried 19 year old. She had another child two years later, and her and my father didn’t get along, so he left. I was raised soley with my mom until I was six and my dad decided he wanted custody (aka, a reason to not pay childcare). So there was this huge custody battle, and my brother and I had to stay in a foster care home for six months, seperatly. We ended up living at my dad’s for the rest ¬†of the year, and then he got tired of us and gave us back to our mom. My mom had a never ending stream of new boyfriends moving in and out of our life (and house). Then she finally settled down with one (whom I hate). They were married and had my sister, and she is the only benefit from this mess. Despite all that I was a happy kid for the most part. Then, when I was around 12, the depression started… It’s been here ever since

Sorry for boring you with all that, but I figured I’d get it out of the way now.

The Worst Pain 3

Are you okay? I’m not, although…what constitutes “okay”? I have a family and a place to live, so I’m better off than alot of people, and for that I am grateful; but I am in so ¬†much pain that sometimes I just can’t breathe. So is this kind of life even worth living? I really don’t know… I feel like terminal cancer and depression are very similar; you are dying and you know it’s going to happen, your in so much pain and you don’t understand why you should keep living. Why should you keep doing something that hurts you, if you don’t have to? It’s hard, you know? I wish I were better with words, better at describing my condition. Maybe it doesn’t matter, ¬†maybe nothing would change even if I could accurately describe the pain. I mean, everyone always says one person can make a difference, and that’s true sometimes. Just not always… like, how could one person help me? They’ve tried, but I guess I just too far gone to be repaired. I don’t understand why I’m here! What is my purpose?! What difference does it make if I’m not here? Why? Why… I asked God to tell me who I am…nothing, just nothing. I can’t believe this happened to me. Why me? Depression always seemed like something that happened to someone else. I always thought that it was the person’s fault, that they somehow were contributing to the sadness they were feeling; but now I know. Now I know… If I could change I would, but I don’t know how. Someone please tell me how, please. If only someone realized that I am depressed… maybe they would know that it’s not a matter of what’s wrong, it’s a matter of how I feel. Maybe they would understand, ¬†maybe they could fix it, maybe they would be suffering too… maybe. How am I supposed to rid myself of sadness, when I don’t even know why I’m sad? How am I supposed to want to live, when there is nothing to live for? Please tell me, why? I want to be done, I want to be gone ¬†but the truth is—

I’m scared

I have a sliver of hope, just enough to make me think about staying , about waiting to see if maybe there is something more for me. This is the worst pain.

The Worst Pain 2

I am writing this while I cry. I can’t imagine my life without tears, it seems just as realistic as being the queen of the world.Please, if you know someone who is depressed, dont ask them what’s wrong; ask them if they want a hug, because they do. I can only push people away, I wish someone would take the effort to pursue a friendship with me, it seems like I do all the work in my relationships. Why does no one care? Why won’t someone stop me from hurting myself? Why won’t someone just ask me how depression makes me feel? I do these things for other people,so why won’t someone do them for me? Am I really that horrible? Am I really that fat, ugly, and stupid that you can’t even stand to talk to me? Why? Someone please tell me why… I believe in God, but it’s slowly getting harder to believe that God would put me through this deep sadness and period of self – hatred. I am the one who helps everyone with their problems, I am the one who keeps everyone else happy, I make sure everyone knows that I care about them. I am also the one who is breaking inside, the one who cries herself to sleep every night, the one who begs for someone to care about her, and I am the one who has to struggle with the pain of depression. Tell me, is this fair? Then again, when is life fair? I wish I could accurately describe the pain of depression, ¬†but if you haven’t experienced it you won’t know. You would not know how it is to wake up and cry just because you’re alive, you wouldn’t know how it is to have to excuse yourself to the bathroom so you can cry in peace. You would never know what it’s like to be up at 3:30 am and cut because you hate yourself for not sleeping. That’s another thing, sleep. It’s a refuge from the storm of depression, because nothing can hurt you while you sleep. No one can tell you you’re not good enough ¬†or that you have serious problems. ¬†No one can crush your heart while ¬†your sleeping. ¬†I wish life could be the same. Depression is the worst pain.

The Worst Pain

Have you ever experienced physical pain? ¬†The answer is probably yes. Now, have you ever experienced emotional pain? You probably have. So the real question is this: which is worse? For me it’s the emotional pain. I am depressed, and it is this horrible feeling of being fake; because I smile and laugh, when inside I feel like dying… I’m a liar, people ask me what’s wrong and when I say nothing, I really mean everything. I am loud, and fun, but when I’m alone I cant shake the feeling of self hatred. I have cut my wrist and legs, but I don’t see the point anymore. It’s not worth the scars and horrified stares. I have attempted suicide, but it didn’t work and I landed myself in the hospital. I want people to notice my sadness, but when they do I push them away. I have been asked if I’m okay, but I don’t think that anyone would want to listen to my long list of problems. I have insomnia, so I’m forced to remain in my mind, replaying all of my idiotic actions through all hours of the night. I know other people go through this, but it just feels like I’m alone in the world, you know? I cry and I can’t stop. People tell me I look sad and tired. I know I look sad and tired, I am sad and tired. Depression is like a dark empty room in between earth and hell; you can hear the demons telling you how fat, ugly, and stupid you are, but you can also hear the people who love you telling you to keep going. I occasionally feel happy, and then those demons remind me of all the things that are going wrong in my life. I can’t remember a day that I didn’t cry. I can’t remember a time when my life didn’t revolve around sadness. I get physical pains everywhere that are caused by my sadness. I am depressed, and it is the worst pain.

Do you struggle with depression?