And Yet I Find Repeating In My Head, If I Can't Be My Own, I'd Feel Better Dead

Sometimes I think if I dissapeared, no one would notice
I mean, I'm not that important, or I can't convince myself I am
With everyone I care for, there's always someone who matters more to them then me
Hell, that even applies to my mother
Anyone can tell that Sheena means alot more to her then I do
And no matter how hard I try to stand out
I just fade in the background
I can't get my thoughts straight
I know if I was better, I'd get the love I've craved
But it seems like I just can't get things right
I never even imagined living this long
No really, I didn't
I always thought I would die before turning 18
Not kill myself nessisarily, but die in some tragic way or another
I never made plans really past this point
I don't know what to do
I listen to everyone's problems, and their happiness
I act like nothing is wrong
But something is
There has to be something wrong when hearing about other people's happiness makes you sick to you stomach
That can't be right
They tell me that I have this disorder, that pills and theraphy will help me to function
But no matter how hard I try, I still feel so wretched
Sometimes I think this is just all in my head
It can't possibly be this bad
What's worse is alot of my unhappiness is my own fault
Like the whole Phil thing
I knew he was attracted to me
He even told me it
But I never acted out on it
So of course he turned to a girl who did
It makes perfect sense
And who can blame him?
Not me
Not really
Sometimes I just want to curl into bed and not wake up
I just...
I just want something to make this pain go away, finally
I'm so sick of feeling this way
And please, I'm not asking for your sympathy
I honestly don't think I deserve it
I don't even have good reason for feeling this way
I just...
Do.

Song of the Entry:

Nutshell by Alice in Chains

We chase misprinted lies
We face the path of time
And yet I fight
And yet I fight
This battle all alone
No one to cry to
No place to call home

Oooh...Oooh...
Oooh...Oooh...

My gift of self is raped
My privacy is raked
And yet I find
And yet I find
Repeating in my head
If I can't be my own
I'd feel better dead

Oooh...Oooh...
Oooh...Oooh...