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Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Pain @ 5:09 PM
Why are you so nice to others but not to me? Did you ever at any one point of time really cared about me? Or was it just because of H then you wanted to be nice to me. I don't want it this way. If you don't truely care about me then don't care about me at all. Don't let me think that you care and then make me break myself down. I just wanted to tell you, my life would have been better off by at least a million times if I didn't have you as my brother. If you think I wrecked your relationship on purpose, I'm sorry. Maybe you just don't understand how it feels to uncover a secret layer by layer. Things you don't want to be kept from. Thinking that your own mother actually cared for you for a second before finding such a secret and realizing that you were wrong. You did something wrong, not me. Why am I always paying for your shit. You know I fought with them because of this? How many times I cried? How many times I thought about killing myself so she'd regret not loving me as much as she loves you? Why I am in such a horrible state now is because of you, you, YOU. You want to know the truth? The only reason why my studies were better than yours was because I wanted them to at least say I did good, at least she will love me for this. I did better than you. She didn't compliment me. She said my results were poor. Yours? I remembered she bragged about your results to all our neighbours. Sure is fair. Remember when I was young? I was a real girl. I wore dresses and my favourite colour was pink. I loved lacy things and pretty clothing. You know why I'm not a girl, yet not a guy now? You. She liked boys better. I made myself into a tomboy, so she'd love me more. I failed again. Now, I'm stuck in between. Not with the guys, not with the girls. I don't fit in anywhere. I hope you're really really happy. Return it to me. I want to feel like a little sister. I want to feel happy cause she is proud of me. I want her to love me. It's not the same anymore. If you gave me a choice, I would have never wanted to be me.

I cried four fucking hours last night.
Still crying now.
Physical pain helps me forget the real pain inside of me.
Even if it's just for a few moments.
The injuries.
The blood.
The pain.





memories
in cold decay.