I hate everything about me. I'm fucking disgusting. I can't look in the mirror without feeling the urge vomit. I'm overweight, yet I keep eating. I tell myself I need to work out and eat healthy, yet I never do. Well, no I do. I start, but I can never keep it up. I can't finish anything. I have a shit ton of unfinished pictures, poems, screenplays, songs everything.

I know I could be so much better. I have the ability to learn quickly. I'm really creative, yet I utilize nothing I sit around like the fat sack of shit that I am and wallow in self pity.

One might think, "Why not do something about it?" The answer is: I don't fucking know! When manic episodes kick in (gotta love that bipolar disorder), I start a lot of projects. I write again. I draw again. I feel like I can do something. Then, out of the blue, depression pops up and reminds me that I am shit. I never finish.

I want to murder myself. I don't mean like a gun to the temple. No, I wish to step outside of my body and brutally murder myself, in the worst way.

I can't be consistent in anything. My weight has gone up and down since I graduated high school, fluctuating about 30lbs. Sometimes, I want to fight for a better life other times I want to end it. Sometimes I feel attracted to men and sometimes I feel attracted to women. Sometimes I feel masculine others I feel feminine. I don't know who or what the fuck I am. I can't tell anymore.

I can't manage my money for shit. I can't manage my time for shit. These are things I should have figured out or at least working on it. Nope.

I just want to end it. I don't have any reason to live. I'm a sack of of shit and I'll never be more than that.