Talking about myself is the hardest thing I have ever done.

Understand that I am very used to being lied to. It's like a drug, the lies people say...it takes over you, weakening you, barring you from the truth. Your truth. EVERYONE is entitled to the truth.
This is why I took a vow. Just minutes ago. Well ok, two vows.
The first is that I will not lie. Lies hurt more than bullets...
Second is that I will reach out, embrace the lives of others. Through this I hope that, by some miracle, I may heal.

You want my life story? It's not that exciting. No being beaten, no divorces, no tragic death, no rape. I mean no offense to anyone who has suffered any of these atrocities, by the way. In many ways, I admire you. If I have to suffer through this much pain with no major spark to ignite it, I can only imagine what others who have seen these things have to suffer with.

My heart, and my understanding, is with all of you.

When I look back at everything I've gone through, I feel disgusted that I let such small things cause me this much pain. I cannot believe how my mind has mangled itself over such...mundane things. How twisted I am now, how broken.
Over what?
I ask myself...
But why talk about it, then? Why bother to speak about the feelings pent up inside of you? Everything that's built up over time, all of the small little things converging into one.
They may say what they want. They may judge me. They may believe I have no legitimate reason to feel what I feel.
...That doesn't help the fact that it hurts.
All of it...

And through all of it, I feel only anger at myself. Anger that I have to take everything so personally. Angry that I'm not the strong one I once was.
I am so young...this is not right.
You see, they hate me, because they believe I want attention. They believe that hiding back, avoiding all of the happy people is a cry for attention.
When all I want is to not have to look at their smiling faces and wonder why that isn't me.
Why. Isn't. It. Me?

The perfect life, the perfect house, the perfect everything. That's how it looks on the outside. Hell, that's how it looks on the inside. But underneath that...I feel it.
Fear. Anger. Betrayal. Hopelessness. Loneliness. Hatred. Despair...

I am broken, like all of you. I may not bare scars that all may see; I may not know why I am this way. I know that this...this is pathetic, all of it.
I hate myself, you see.
"Why? Why use all of your energy hating yourself?"
I have no answer. I hope I do, someday.
And I hope to whatever may be watching me that I am not forever like this.

The worst part is...I remember when I was happy.
What's happened?

That will come in time. Specifics are not my strong suit, I do not open easily. I told you first thing, talking about myself is the hardest thing to do. Sharing that was one of the most laborious tasks I have ever completed. Give me the strength to hit submit...