[Catharsis.]

And I ruined everything. I always do. I'm good at it. I said all along that all I was good at was hurting people and being controlling and abusive and now I've gone and bloody well proven it. I didn't want to argue. I don't even want to be hurtful. I don't. It's just all I can do. I'm a waste. A waste of a fucking life. What was I thinking, presuming that just because I had fun yesterday meant I fit in for once? Do I fuck fit in? They don't want to talk to me, after one day. They don't want anything to do with me. And I'll be the very last to blame them for that.

Life isn't going to be the same if it happens. Life won't be worth living. Everything will be lost. I don't know. I can't even face it. I haven't lived. I started living just before I turned seventeen, for crying out loud. And I really thought things were getting better. I really fucking did. I really thought my life had started, had changed. Now I fucked it up. Now I lost. And I have no-one to blame but myself, at the end of the day. I can't blame them. I can't blame my abuser, but it's not like anyone believes he even existed. I can't blame the elite. The popular kids. The ones who crushed me and kicked me when I was down. And I can't empathise with them either. Delighted if they go through anything like what I've gone through because of them. And even more delighted if the stupid hangers-on get fucked over with them.

Life for me is detachment, I guess. This is my life. This is me. The fuckup. The unlovable. The waste.