Happiness.

I can never seem to hold onto it. Even when I feel ecstatic, there's always the slightest hint of depression threatening to take over.
I'm so fucking sick of it.
I want to be carefree.
I want to not want to be loved.
I want self-confidence and self esteem.
I can't seem to suffice even the slightest amount of self-confidence to even talk to someone more attractive than I am.
I feel irritating. And envious, and unworthy.
I'm sick of being hit on by people I have absolutely no interest in. And I can't stand it even more when they refuse to back off.
I am not beautiful.
I am not amazing.
I am not anything anyone says I am.
I'm bitchy. I'm angry a lot. I have depression issues, as well as anxiety, that come at random and sometimes overpowering spurts.
I don't have much sympathy for anyone, nor pity, except briefly.
I never have a reason to be depressed, I just am.
Whatever confidence I may appear to have is either temporary or a cover-up so I don't receive any false pity from others.
I don't want to be this way. I don't like the person I am.
I don't like living the way I do. (speaking for my personality and outlook)
I don't like the fact that I lie about how I'm doing or how I feel and only rant to this blog.
For no one really to notice.
Because I know that if I were to say all of this to someone...they wouldn't really care. I don't blame them.
Everyone irritates me. Even just looking at them. It makes me feel shallow.
I want to sleep and not wake up in the morning. Or end it some way of my own. But I can't.
Although I really don't see it, and I can't really wrap my mind around it, my death apparently would affect at least my mother and aunt.
They don't need anymore death.
They're really the only ones keeping me from doing it.
They hold onto death.
Everyone else wouldn't really care. In 5 years, no one will even know who I was.
Who would expect it though? I think it would be interesting, although I wouldn't really be around to see much of it, will I.
It would be interesting indeed...
I'd make not even a ripple in the lake of the scholarly society that is Rome High, or anywhere else for that matter.
I don't want to deal with it, really. Not really anymore.
I haven't for such a long time.