RANDOMNESS 1.0

"Message Exceeded Maximum Amount Of Characters"

Yeah, well fuck you message bored! I'll just post it in here where people will actually read it and judge me and say thing and...

Can I please request you don't read this? Please. If you care about me, don't read it. If you don't give a shit and want a pathetic person to laugh at, please continue while I hold back this wimpy tears and copy-paste this bullshit.

Please don't read, really. If you love me, which nobody does, don't read. Don't stress about me, don't worry about it, just don't read.

Last warning. And I'm for real.

Guys, it's 1:46 in the morning, probably no longer when this Finally get posted... And what is wrong with me? I feel lonely and lost, which isn't new. But I haven't felt that in a long time. No one will bother reading all this shit, I completely understand that. My writing is horrible, emotionless, unrelatable, indecisive, incompetent, unenthusiastic, bland, and frankly just boring. Not like anyone really cares about all these synonms, but I thought them all up on the spot. Easy peasy. Even though the internet think my vocabulary is that of an average American 10 year old... That's real nice. Real nice. If there's one way to crush a small child's dream of being loved for her "talent" of writing, it's to tell her her vocabulary is that of a tiny child. Though she is one in mind, that doesn't transfer to my matureness. I hope, at least. And my voices, oh the voice, won't let me live it down.
Okay, why am I ranting about this at 2 AM? Why am I listening to the fan and the sound of my own distended fingers tapping away on a tiny white keyboard that somehow conveys my words into faster text form. And manages to keep all the emotion fed through my thoughts and into the impulsive clicking of those tiny square buttons that are only indicated by some sort of symbol, usually a letter or number. Not to mention the speed of thw words in my mind cannot keep up with either my fingers, my phone, or my auto-correct. None can survive my speed and emotions. This is simply a word distraction to keep me from the fact that I am sick. My constant suicide attempts have left me a weak, dehydrated and highly malnurished child. And my anxiety has made me fat and heavy, though I am still almost constantly being threatened by blackouts from lack of food and water. It's like I've suddenly grown a million years overnight. The amount of water i used to ingest suddenly isn't nearly enough, and the small amounts of food I subject myself to seemingly doesn't have enough to keep my from fainting. And the heat, oh the heat, it messes with me. I'm already a fucked up teenager with no life or childhood, no heart and no brain. Heat, depression, anxiety, loneliness, that feeling of unlove... I'm still a child! I'm still a little girl who wants a hug and kiss before bed, to be tucked in and given love and affection. As cringy and cheesy as I used to think it be, I miss it. So badly. I just want to be held and cuddled like I once was. When my parents were together and I still saw my father in a perfect light because I was too young to understand what words like, "Child Porn" and "Cheating" meant. Now I know much more; lying, stealing, invading privacy, child molestation... I really miss being completely innocent. When everything was taken care of for me, and I didn't have to do anything but entertain myself. It made me happy, having life be so simple. I didn't know the darkness in the world, other than the shit I read in all those sci-fi and fantasy books. That was totally worth it though. Eragon, and that whole series, exposed me to my love of magic and dragons. And then Alpha and Omega brought forth intricate mixes in certain supernatural creatures and characters. And Bartholomew was loved... I loved those books. I loved how the demon had a backstory that was never really picked up on, but always lead to show that he was significantly weaker than he used to be. I loved that he would always be sceptical and untrusting until the situation forced it. I loved that the evil, immortal demon ended up the friend of children. Even calling upon their help in certain situations. That beings me to the more common books, where there were horrible backstories for characters. It induced sympathy, empathy, and sometimes relatability with the character. I've learned that last one is the most important. If you relate with your character, it'll all flow smoothly...
I am a liar. And I bad liar. That makes me like my dad, and makes me hate myself. I'm a bad girl, who will grow up to be an evil person. I don't want to be like my father, but I don't think I can choose that. I don't think I can choose who I get to be compared to, or to be. If I do, well thank the gods! And then there's my religion... I don't know what to believe. I know there is some supernatural force that is keeping me from dying, and my ten year old self had molded that into a story. The gods... Most of it was inspired by Loki X Readers and other Norse mythology fanfictions. Some of it was brought on by an infantile love for Marvel, which still remains. Then the Blackwell Pages came along, and I feel head over heels in love. Which is strange, because I'm constantly questioning my sexuality. I am a girl, I'm attracted to other girls.... But not really? Does that make me asexual? Maybe just... Homomarital? I don't know... Fuck, everything is so confusing in this time. When I was younger, I wanted to be a guy so I could get the girls and not have them think me weird. Like, my family is all a part of this religion that says homosexuality is just a struggle. Not an actual thing, just a trial you have to overcome. WHAT THE FUCK?! it's a Christian cult. Even heard of the LDS? Yeah, that's the Mormon cult. The majority of my family is avid followers, and would definitely reject me if I came out... This thing is just so complicated...

If you've gotten this far, I am almost in tears and feel inclined to apologise for all this shitty wording that is imply for my own purpose of venting, and maybe receiving guidance from someone who isn't going to ask me to solve it myself. A hug would be nice... That's another thing I miss. I miss the hugs. My step dad always says that a twenty second hug releases chemicals in your head and make your feel loved. Right now, at two fifteen in the morning, me alone in the guest bedroom thinking to myself and my voices about what the fuck I'm doing with my life, there is no one to give me a hug. Or loves. Both of which i desperately need before I break down like a little wimp. Maybe this was a bad idea, this writing, this venting. Maybe it wasn't... I won't know...

Anyway, in closing I'm sorry for bothering you. Most of you will never even see this, and I don't really want you to. It's okay. I love you still. You're my friend, my Wattpad family. And I will always love you and accept you no matter what mood I'm in. And if I don't, please kill me. If I'm not kind, I don't deserve my spot on Earth. I don't deserve it in the first place, but maybe I can do something to better my feeling about not being allowed to die. Again, I love you all, sorry to bother you with my shit and self-pity.

(This summed up to 1246 words. No wonder I wasn't allowed to post this on my board....) Also, it's 2:22 AM rn