It's my birthday. It's a new year. I should be happy that I'm still here.
But I'm not. Let me tell you, I'm not happy. No one ever listens to me, there is no one around to listen, but I've got to tell someone. So I figured I'd tell the internet.
I'm 16 years old and yet I don't feel like it. I don't feel young. I feel like a middle aged adult. I feel old. I feel worn out. I don't feel like I have a whole life ahead of me, I feel like I have a whole bunch of nothing ahead of me. Is that normal? I don't think it is.
In this house, I don't think "home." I don't really think anything. A house is supposed to feel warm, inviting, cozy; it's supposed to feel like it can hold a family, right? This place doesn't feel like it. This place is cold, and dark, and gloomy. I can't really explain the feeling more than that.
I lay here, alone, and unwanted, under these bed sheets. This is how I spend every day; alone. Alone with this dumb computer, wasting away my life. I can't focus on homework. I stopped going to school. I can't even draw anymore. I can't even write; then again, I never could. This many paragraphs is actually a tremendous feat for me, all things considered.
I'm so cold right now. I think my heater's broken.
I don't want to get up, but I think my mom's going to yell at me again. So I guess I'll have to try going to school. I wonder how many days of classwork I'll have to make up.
In a few minutes, I'll officially be 16, down by the second. I was born at 4:44 in the morning. What a miserable time to be born, right? No one's awake now. No one. I'm alone.
I guess that's how it'll always be for me anyways. Why aren't I used to it yet? I was born alone, and I'm going to die alone. That's how it goes for kids like me.
I'll drift off into the abyss alone, drown alone, and float on... alone.
I'm sorry for doing this. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for even existing. It'd be better if I just disappeared. My siblings would get more food, they'd stop being annoyed by me, I wouldn't cause any arguments with my mother, my little brother Alec would get my room instead of sharing it with Chandler... everything would be much better.
I don't have time to cry again. I spend every damn day doing that. I've got to get ready for school. I've got to get up and go, right? How do I find the strength to do that. Why. Why am I going to bother with this?
I just want all of this to end. I want the pain to stop. I want the greys to go away.
At least I've got this music. At least I've got something to escape to.
But I believed in more than nothingness last year.
And under every quiet failure it's still here.
Buried breathing under 16 years of tragedy and fear.