It hurts, you know. I keep saying that it doesn't hurt, trying to convince myself that I really don't care. That I'm going to march into school this year, proud and strong. When I know that really I'm just going to slink in and try my best to keep my chin up.

It's interesting how quickly people you thought were you friends will turn on you in a second, for something you had nothing to do with. And how you become more hated then the original people to blame.

Damnit, I had nothing to do with that stupid status or anything else that went down. I was literally just an innocent bystanders. And my problems with Cailin were no one else's business. It was between us, and no one else has the right to butt in.

One of my 'friends' hasn't spoken a word to me in 6 months because I stayed friends with someone she hated and because she stuck her nose into something she wasn't supposed to, and used that against me. God, she's only one of the few people that won't talk to me now.

I don't know what to do next year. I seriously contemplated moving schools, to the point where I talked to my mother about it. But that's running away. And what shattered pride is still left won't allow me to turn my tail and run merely because a bunch of cow's chose lies and deceit over friends.

I even got it thrown into my face. Ran into a guy my 'friends' have suddenly gotten really close to, and he blurted out, 'Oh, so YOU'RE the one that everyone is talking about!'

Wow, thank you. That just makes me feel so much better.

I am so sick of all the shit. So sick of it all.

My head is collapsing in on itself. I can't think straight.

damnit damnit damnit damnit damnit.

I ran away from home today.

Well, sort of. I got into a massive fight with my father. He screamed at me for no reason, literally no reason. Called me a selfish bitch despite that I was cleaning up something he himself couldn't be bothered cleaning. Lots of shit went down.

He wouldn't stop screaming. Screaming, screaming, screaming. All these names and insults and they just...

I screamed back, of course.

So he told me to get out. He told me to leave. I grabbed my bag, and I walked out with him screaming at my back. I told him I hated him and that he was not my father.

I can't stand him. I really can't. He wonders why I have low self esteem, without it occurring to him that maybe it's because sixteen years worth of insults and hate have been chipping away at me and making me feel so worthless and disgusting.

I shouldn't post this. But I will. Because I rarely talk about it to people other than close friends, which are becoming far and few, so I think it might be good for me. Maybe.

I don't know. I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know what to do.

I'm so lost.