Every moral, every ideal, every dream, every hope..Worthless. Practically everything I stand for.

Being nice doesn't count for anything. Not really. It just makes you easy to use.

And now I'm left wondering: Do I count for anything? If I have nothing left to stand for, surely I must have nothing left. So me: myself, everything I am, the smooth bit on my thumb where my thumb ring is, the long hair in need of a cut, the mismatched earrings, the scar..Nothing.

And the most ironic thing is, it wasn't even something that someone said. Or maybe it was an accumulation of things. I don't know. It's sad how my neverending dreams..ended.

And I am calling, yelling, screaming at you to tell me that I'm not worthless, that I do mean something, that I should keep trying, that it's not a lost cause, that there is still hope. Or something along those lines.

Why don't you hear me?

But no. Let's make this about you. Because my problems are so hard to deal with even I don't want to bother.

{arethingsreallythatbad?}

So long and goodnight.