On the outside I guess I look pretty ok. Relatively successful, lots of friends, outgoing and happy. On the inside I'm hollow and miserable. Yes, when I was standing over the kitchen sink with the knife I was thinking about using it to go up the road (not across the street, remember kids.)

You told me you thought I was too strong to do it. I guess I am. Or am too cowardly to really end it. I don't know. But what would have made it better is if you would have come to me, knowing I was unhappy.You left me alone.

What kind of person does that? I feel like I spend my life trying to make other people happy, to make them feel special and wanted. But when it comes down to it and I need someone, everyone just assumes I'll be ok. Guess what? I'm not. I'm really, really not. The meds aren't enough anymore.

And I'm really not. My mother hates me and screams at me about things that aren't my fault when we're alone. My sister hasn't spoken with me in a year after she threw a massive tantrum on a day that was supposed to be special for me. She says it's because she doesn't know what to say. I'm sorry, from both of them, would do. But they won't. I'm the bad person. And maybe I am. So here I am, motherless on Mother's Day. Mourning the loss of my best friend. Left alone by the person that's supposed to love me the most. Cut off by the sister I wanted to connect with.

I'm tired. And you know what, I don't feel strong. Have fun trolling me I,A. At least someone will be happy.