[I'm giving up. For real this time.
I don't know why I even bother. This story is not going anywhere. I sometimes feel like an idiot that constantly cuts his wrist and cries out how much he wants to die, but never goes through with it like a coward.
But I'm more cowardly than that idiot, because I can't even cut my wrist haha! I'm scared of pain.
What I'm trying to say is… It must be tiring to be the reader of an author like me. You all came here just for quick entertainment, not the meanderings of a pessimistic fool.
It's not like I'm living the worst life possible. Maybe my family was right. I'm just a spoiled, lazy brat that bitch and moan whenever things don't go my way. Maybe I was so caught up with how 'special' I was in the past to them, and that inflated my ego.
But I was never special. I was just lied to because I was more curious, more eccentric than the other kids.
