I know that I want to live, that I want to be happy. I truly do. But I can’t escape the daily thoughts that I should kill myself. I always think that I deserve to die, be raped or molested, that I deserve to be beaten. I know that I have too-far good a life, that I deserve much worse. So I know that when I get older I’m just going to be a loser, because I already am one. I have no friends, s***** grades, I’m ugly as f***, I’m not healthy physically or mentally. My family says I’m skinny but I know they’re just being nice. My brother is being nice to me, which is so weird. He’s only nice when I’m really screwed up. It’s unnerving. I ruined my dad’s life by being born early and causing all that pain and waste of money. All I do is hold my brother back in life because he has to waste time out of his day helping me with stupid s***** stuff. The only reason I hold myself back from snapping and killing myself is because I’m too invested in the people I love, I love them too much to hurt them like that. I know that if I “accidentally” got hit by a car or something that they’d see right through that, so I can’t even do that. I have to live. I know that. But I’m such a shame. And I know that.