Hate it.

You know what I hate?

I hate that whenever I'm trying my best, the most I can give and to keep my sanity safe (I don't want to get into prison, I'm not that good killer, considering it, a padded cell, the worst ones), and trust me, that's a lot, I don't disrespect the ones that worth it, I don't get suspensions (and even good guys and bad guys get them all the fucking time, or that who I considered nice so far isn't that nice any longer), I don't get an interruption, I never did, some have few, I'm barely making any foul steps, I'm being finally good, not like of the years before, due to the unbearable feelings even before the fifth's grade winter, I was truly helpless, no motivation, I assume it happened after people told me I'm a perfectionist, I decided to not do homework to prove them wrong, they were right, that's one of the reason that I am who I am. 

I don't cut, although that if I don't I suffer from emotional binging and overeating.

And I hate it. 

It makes me more harm than good if I'm not hurting myself (nail marks aren't painful enough), and it fucking sucks that I have to not have a meal in order to feel better afterwards. 

It's a hell, but hell became such a pleasent place to run away into. 

Heaven won let me in, partly my choice, I don't want a shitload of friends, dozens of faces and even more names to match, I don't want it, it disgusts me. 

Earth can be nice, I have to admit, but I'm petrified. 

I'd rather to stay at the homely place there, my thoughts consuming me, numbers in fact do count, fear exists, monsters are real, comfort can be found in reading, writing, and feeling that you're not closed alone in this bubble. 

And what I hate the most?

When I try my best, and it's not enough, not to both of my parents, only to my mother, big deal, I didn't make homework, but she don't have a fucking signal idea what the average gets there, interruption, late, went out without permission, ditching. 

They're fucking animals. 

I'm trying my best. 

My teachers like me. 

Do you know how terrifying for me that my therapist is more welcoming than you?

And I fucking hate her, I cannot possibly ever stand her. 

Is it weird that I have an idea how this hell will look?

Colored in a dark chocolate brown, and pale light brown, the two most beautiful colours, that I'll never be. 

It will constain wifi, and my laptop, it'll be pretty much like my room, just with a double bed, I'll wear plain clothes, and I'll succeed at powering my emotions off. 

Fuck this fuckung life. 

At least my dad cares. 

And my sister and brother. 

And my small yet satisfying amount of friends. 

Humm...

Did I just dye my whole world in her?

My mother is the only one who caused me this misery. 

Every pain or sorrow, designed by her, and it turned me that badly, I fucking hate her.