Self-hate.

It's 2:53am and I find myself thinking about the things that make me, me. And I've come to terms with the fact that I hate it. I love it but I hate it. I know I'm a mess, a contradictory one. I love the fact that I'm the kind of person who gives and gives but I hate it when it backfires on me because frankly who gives a fuck if you are? No one cares. No one is going to tell you "Oh thank you dear, for considering my feelings!" because NO ONE CARES. They all think it's a self-entitled thing, that the people around them can only say nice things to them and not hurt their feelings and that they can hurt other people's feelings because why not?

Of course, you'd say that life is unfair, right? Damn right it is, and when people hurt my feelings who can I complain to? My friends ask me to get over it and my boyfriend thinks that his own feelings > mine so what do I do? I write. I pour all my thoughts and feelings onto paper, onto a blank space where nothing and no one will fire back at me. I can write that you're a faggot and the paper wouldn't yell back at me "YOU'RE THE REAL FAGGOT".

The only remedy for my riotous feelings is writing and it is there that I find my haven, where nothing and no one can hurt me and walk over me like a welcome mat. I am the ranter and the paper is MY welcome mat. I am the one who wipes the mud onto the carpet - as the ink appears across the paper, in between the lines.

At times I worry for my own mental health because if at 3am my mind is telling me "you're really fucked up" then there's probably something wrong. Very wrong. I hate being competitive but I get so competitive that it ruins friendships and relations that I have - and the worst part is that I can't help it, I fucking can't. I can't bear being the one to run second in a race when the person rushes past me with the difference of half a second, I can't bear losing to the people I know because I hate being a loser, I want to be recognized. I want to be a WINNER. Because winners never get criticized, they're the ones in the spotlight. But who focuses on the loser? Only ever the people who call you second-best. Only ever the people who crave to get a shot at your already damaged self-esteem. Only ever the people who jump at the chance to take a stab at your bruised ego because hey, you're the loser!

I hate feeling that way, and today I got scolded for being too competitive.

That means I got scolded for being myself. And trust me, I hate myself too. I hate every piece of me that LIVES because I am just about the worst person on the planet. I'm never smart enough for people, never pretty enough for people, never good enough. I'm not good enough for my family, I'm not good enough for my boyfriend, I'm not good enough for my friends, nor my studies.

I suck. And just because I do well in some things it doesn't mean I'm a fucking genius - there will always be people better than me. And even though Kanye West says that there will always be people better than me, but I'm ME (like, uniquely me), so fucking what? I'm not a person to stand out in the crowd. People notice my friends, not me. They notice other people's work, other people's passion for the things they love.

I'm the one that goes unnoticed. And if there were to be a colour to describe me - it wouldn't even be black. Because black represents something elegant, beautiful, subtle and it is literally the most emotional colour in the world, because black is dark, mysterious and contains some of the most angsty emotions out there. Simmering anger. Jealousy.

I am grey. I am the colour that is dull, unemotional and the most unnoticed colour. Don't even talk to me about fifty shades of grey - the only grey that is mentioned is his surname, and his suit + tie. No, Christian Grey is anything but grey. But I am. I am grey, the grey girl.

I hate myself. And when I try to love myself - it's hard, some days I think 'Hey, maybe I'm getting there!' and then it just comes smashing down onto my head. Some things in these past few months have literally been a slap to my face and it's hard to process. I just want to sleep my days away because sleep is my escape from this shitty reality and from all the fucked up things that swim through my mind during the dark.

You can say that I'm a poor, whiny child that thinks that the world owes me a living - the world does not owe anything a living, and yes. I admit that I am a whiny person and that I deserve at least some understanding for someone who has been through a shitty childhood and has met shitty people, shittier than most of the people that you normal kids have met.

I know, there are people out there that have it worse don't they? Starving kids in Africa. People who are dying from ISIS. Adults who are homeless and poor. But does this mean I can't wallow in my own sadness? NO, go fuck yourself. It's like saying I can't be happy because someone out there is happier than me.

And It seems to me that I'm slowly driving the people around me away. I don't reply messages, I miss out on outings, I hide myself away. Some people leave of their own accord, some people get stolen away, some people stay. But the ones who have stayed - they have their own things to do, don't they? I can't blame them. Either way, I'm a pathetic friend and a pathetic girlfriend.

Don't bother trying to reach out to me after this post, because chances are I won't respond to you. Forget about God, I'm done with my religion. I don't need another person dictating my life based on scriptures from the Bible that was from a few thousand years ago. I don't need another authority figure in my life, I've got my hands full dealing with my own family.

No matter how many times I say that I need to learn how to deal with the fact that people don't need me in their lives - they never ask me out, they never ask me for my opinions or make the time to talk to me - I can't seem to. If possible I'd like to shoot myself in the head. If I were to die I'd want to die painlessly and fast.

I'm the girl who lives in the moment, the girl whose temper flares more than the sun, and the girl who believes in giving to her friends. But those things don't matter, because no one else cares. No one gives two hoots. No one.

Okay, I'm done here with this rant-fest full of self-hate and disgust at myself. Today is April's Fools, so I guess the joke's on me. HA HA HA Valerie, you suck.