Maybe I am white trash

LOL. I don’t know why, but I thought that might be an interesting start to my diary entry. What do you guys think? Am I white trash? Maybe I should start a poll. Everyone who thinks I’m white trash, press that little x up there in the right hand corner. Yay. Now that I’ve got the nice people paying attention, I guess I’ll just do a little rambling. I feel so weird. It’s like my life isn’t worth anything any more. I keep hearing my grandfather’s words echo in my head. “You’re not worth anything.” “You’re ugly.” “If you lost some weight, you’d be beautiful.” “If you lost weight, you could be a cheerleader and have tons of football players as your boyfriends.” “You don’t deserve to live.” “You have no morals.” Those words, and plenty more, just keep echoing in my head. I don’t know how to make them stop. Everytime I start to feel the slightest bit good about myself someone says something that throws me into a total whirlwind. I just can’t make the voices stop. Did I ever tell anyone here that? I hear voices. John Allen tells me that’s really cool. He, obviously, doesn’t hear the voices. I don’t think anyone who hasn’t heard voices understands what it feels like to hear them. They don’t understand what it feels like to close your eyes and witness your own death. They don’t understand how much relief you get and how the voices shut up when you take a razor blade and slice through your skin. They don’t get how you eat until you feel like your sick just to make that voice shut up. They don’t understand. No one understands me. No one wants to understand me. People think they know all about me just by looking at me or looking at this diary, but they don’t. They don’t have to live with my heart and my mind. They don’t have to spend every day wondering who’s out to get them. I get paranoid walking the dog down the street. I feel like somebody will jump out and kidnap me and rape me. Or that someone will make a “We Hate Janet” website and all my friends will go to it and they’ll say how much they really hate me, too. No one really likes me. They all have lied to me. I’m not worth their time. I’m not worth anyone’s time. My life isn’t valuable. My life is the worst thing that has ever happened in this world. I’m sick of this life. I don’t want to kill myself, but sometimes it seems like the only way out. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. I don’t want to try. I guess that’s all for now.

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Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.