...is love. It does not exist, I will not let it exist. Let's give a run-down of my life, shall we?

I did love someone once. I thought they loved me back. I was so happy, floating on air...love was everything, they were everything.

But I was mistaken.

Yeah, same teenage drama shit. Just a one-time fling and awkward as all hell. Got over them...

fell in love with them again.
Got my heart stabbed.

Kept at it.
Realized I should have never loved at all, how foolish I was...how stupid.

I can't say 'I love you' and mean it.
I've become so cold, I'm making my friends want to commit suicide.
My hate for myself has reached an all-time high.
This time...not even writing can calm me down.

I'm freaked at what a monster I've become. I'm seriously wondering how I managed to fuck up again. Just now...just when I let my real personality show...I have to break.

Why...didn't I die when I had the chance? I've had so many chances and managed to botch them up somehow. Not just attempts or plans, no...I mean, when I was born.

Why couldn't those fucking doctors just leave me the fuck alone? If I was born dead, don't fucking bring me back to life. Obviously, I wasn't meant to be here.

I don't want to be here.
Screw this.