I really am only one infinitely small part of an aching humanity.

They have accepted me as an individual, as a personality, as an entity. I belong! I am important! I am somebody!

Why is life so difficult? Why can't we be just ourselves and have everyone accept us the way we are?

I wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone in this whole world. I wouldn't hurt them physically or emotionally, how then can people so consistently do it to me? Even my parents treat me like I'm stupid and inferior and ever short. I guess I'll never measure up to anyone's expectations. I surely don't measure up to what I'd like to be.

They don’t think “I care,” “I hurt,” or “I have feelings.” It just seems like I’m always “wrong,” always “selfish,” always “self-centered” and everything else that’s negative and destructive.

This morning when I left Mom's parting words were, "Come straight home after school." Wow! Like I'm going to get stoned at 3:30—it doesn't sound so bad at that.

I'm afraid to live and afraid to die.