Hate.

What a wonderful day. 

I woke up. 

My mother forced me to show her my root work. 

I wrote truth. 

She hated it. 

I cried and went through a "beautiful" breakdown. 

I begged to go to school. 

But I wasn't allowed to until she understood she had no fucking choice because she can't lock me at home alone. 

I fucking hate myself. 

I fucking hate her. 

I fucking hate them. 

I hate it that every once in a while I have to reconsider if it's actually worth it. 

I hate it that I'm in this dark tunnel, and there's no light in the end, the end is so far away, but all I do is walking, until I reach the destination, I create and build things to help me go through it. 

They aren't that good to me half the time. 

But some are nice to me, some aren't. 

I need to find a way to commit suicide, where even when I'm dead or that I was brought back, with a minimal organ damage. 

I'm not worthless. 

I'm less then it. 

I'm a fucking -12$ bill.