You ever just feel useless. I guess I'm pretty good at writing poetry, but what does that mean. I felt contaminated when I touched my mom's bag, and I feel dirty sitting in this chair now. I feel hopeless, what's the point in school if I'll die anyway? My whole life is a question. My mom once told me she wished she wasn't a parent. What would happen then? I do want to exist, I like my friends but I don't know if I like feeling like a failure. I can't do anything. I want to cry but the tears won't come. I won't cut but I want to do something. I want to go for a walk, but I can't because it's dark out and I'm a young girl. Am I fat? I don't know, I don't eat that much. There's nothing to eat. My lunch consisted of a chocolate milk and 5 packs of cranberries one day. I've been told Im fat before. We were at some sandwich place and I didnt want anything. I don't remember why she said I was fat, but I started crying in public. I feel dead right now. Moms yelling at me again, Im writing in my diary but Im supposed to be changing the cat litter. I get yelled at a lot. This morning it was because I had too many potato chips in my lunch. I had 8. Sometimes I wish I could talk to people about my problems, but It's never the right time. I wish I could just disappear. Maybe if I got kidnapped, they wouldn't be so bad. I'm not going to get kidnapped, the world doesn't work that way. I wish nobody cared so that I could just leave. But the thing is I like them caring, because then I don't leave. They're distractions. I wish I could be famous so I could I actually don't know what Id do. I want to make a difference. I want to do something with my life. I wish I didn't feel so useless. It really wouldn't affect the world if I died. I want to cry, but then my family asks why.

I didn't change the litter, but I went downstairs. I could hear my mom and brother yelling from the second floor. They still are. Moms taking my phone because I was writing. I wish I had the guts to tell her how I feel. It wouldn't change anything. It hasn't before. I've had two cutting "incidents" and each time after, it only got worse. Why does it always have to be me who gets yelled at. Why can't my mom just throw away the milk cover I forgot on the counter for once? She can just do it it's not that big of a deal. You don't have to send me a picture and write some reminder and yell. She's taking my phone. I wish she wouldn't. Then I could text someone, maybe the hotline and I could get a distraction from this feeling. I wish I was at dads. I have homework to do. Apparently taking out the trash

Nobody ever listens to me. I wish I could just leave. I could. I could leave the house and go somewhere else, but I don't want the police to be called. I wish cuts wouldn't scar. I wish I had my old pencil sharpener so that the blade would be sharper. Whenever I tell my mind or show that I've cut again it only gets worse. I can't post this journal today because all my stuffs gone, Taking out the trash is more important than homework and mental health. I want to bleed.

6 cuts this time all on upper left arm.

You know when I first started cutting, I always did it only on my left side (still do) because I'm right handed and didn't want to have to get my right hand amputated if something went wrong. Cutting makes me calmer. It's not healthy, but it does

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Tomorrows's Dear Diary