Journal #50

I want to go home.

I'm such an insufferable, stupid, worthless, hideous. ignorant idiot. Why would I ever think any one could love only me for the rest of their life. I'm not enough. I'm just not. I hate myself. What a miserably selfish thing: to want something despite never have been worthy of it one second of my stupid life. 

I feel like there's been some mistake somewhere and I've ended up in some bad timeline. How cruel it was to be born a dreamer but never having what it takes to achieve anything you long for. I wish I could disappear or be another woman entirely.

I sometimes open my mouth to speak only to remember nobody's there and nobody would care what I have to gripe about anyway. When I cry, all I hear is my father calling me disappointing. I'm so fucking disappointing. 

There's nothing happy to write about anymore and I doubt there will be. I want to give up.