I am a haunted house. A broken, hollowed-out shell of the girl I used to be. The ghost of who I used to be lingers but she gets weaker every day. Everything seeps out through those cracks. Light comes in but it has nothing to reflect off of. Nothing to cast a shadow of. Inside I am empty. Broken, and hollowed out.

Sometimes I think about who I used to be. Before everything happened. Before grandma died. Before that man took the last little bit of innocence I had. Before the disappointment in my mothers eyes everytime she looks at me. Before I could feel my fathers anger coursing through my veins. Before everything I used to be happy I think. I don't really remember that little girl. I don't really remember anything from before but I think I was happy. I mean I had to be I was a kid. But she's dead. That little girl died at 9 and I don't think I have ever figured out who I am now.

Sometimes I think I've lived too long. It's a ridiculous thought to have at 23 but I don't think I'm supposed to be here. I think I was supposed to die when I was 16. It's a weird feeling like I'm here but I'm not supposed to be. I feel like I'm just kind of walking through life not living it. I have no idea what I am doing. I'm not living for me I'm simply here because I don't want to hurt the few people who care about me. I don't know what to do. Is there a way to stop feeling like this? Is there a way to feel like I'm supposed to be here? How do I start living my life? How do I start living instead of just existing?

"The world is so cruel, therefore I won't be."

I know this so well so I will be what I never had.

I will not be the one to tear down. I will be the one to build up. The one to hold your hand when you feel alone. The one to stand by your side and help you hold the weight of the world. The one to love not hate. The one to brighten the day not dim. The one to listen when all others have gone deaf. The one to teach you to float when you feel you are drowning. You will never have to face anything alone not with me here.

I'm not me anymore. If I'm being honest I haven't been me for awhile, hell I'm not even sure who me is anymore, but it's getting worse everyday. The thing is no one notices which is both a great relief and a knife in my heart. No one notices that I am slowly slipping away, that I lose another piece of myself everyday, no one notices that I don't even recognize myself anymore. I put on a show to make it seem like I'm fine, go to work, school, family dinners and events just to make it seem, to give the illusion that I am okay. But I'm not and it hurts that no one notices. Maybe it's my fault for putting on this strong face in front of them but I don't know how to not do that and I will not let them watch me struggle. I will not let them watch my sink and crumble. I just wish someone would see past the show I put on.

I look at these scars on my body and wonder why did I do this to myself. I mean I know why I did but now I have to explain them to everyone but I can't bring myself to tell you what they are actually from. So I make up stories of great adventures that ended in injury. All the while knowing exactly what happened but your face lights up hearing of my "adventures" and I cannot bear to tell you that my scars are from me. That at one point in my life I was so low I cut my skin open to feel something. That I sat and watched as the blood trickled and the sight, the feeling, brought me peace, brought me comfort. Because all the blood and the pain meant that I was still living even though it did not feel like it.

Night time has always been my favorite time. As a child I would climb out my bedroom window and lay on the roof in the dark among the stars. I would just listen to how quiet, how peaceful it was. The world was always too loud and so was my head but at night it all got quiet and I would listen to the crickets and the frogs and just watch the stars until the sun came up. I was content, I was happy then. I miss that.

I’m so angry. I’m not sure exactly where the anger is coming from. Is it from my childhood? Is it from school? The anxiety? The depression? I don’t know. All I know is I wake up angry and go to sleep angry and it’s exhausting. I hate being angry I don’t want to be this person. Carrying my anger around like a bag of bricks weighing me down. Holding me back, holding me down. How do I move past this? Is there a way to move past this or will I be this angry person for the rest of my life?

I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m stuck. Part of me so desperately wants to get better, to heal. But I’ve gotten so used to the depression, the sadness that it’s become comfortable. I know it like the back of my hand. I know what to expect and I’m scared to get better because I have no idea what to expect.

I know that I will never be good enough for you. I never have been even when I was a child and all you had to do was love me and show me the way nothing I ever did seemed to please you. But sometimes I wonder what I did or what was so wrong with me that you couldn't love me, why you hated me so much. I wonder was it the ADHD, the depression, the anxiety? What was it that was so wrong with me that you my own mother couldn't stand me. All I ever wanted was for you to love me. Was to have the relationship with you that other girls have with their moms. To be able to come and talk to you when things got hard or I was going through something. But I couldn't talk to you about anything because everytime I opened my mouth you made me feel like I was a burden. Like there was something wrong with me. Like I was unwanted and in the way. Like everything that ever happened was my fault. But it was never like that with the boys. They were perfect in your eyes. Everytime they made a mistake that's exactly what it was, a mistake. When I did you always said it was on purpose that it wasn't a mistake I was just going out of my way to make your life harder. I did everything I could to try to make you happy and it was never enough. I was never enough.