Scream

"If you say that I'm wrong, then you better prove you're right."
-J. Jackson

Today is Sunday... It is the day where I go to PostSecret.com and view the new secrets that have come in. There was one secret, albeit not a postcard, that resonates with me:

My mom read my diary when I was sixteen, and yelled at me four three hours because I wrote about how much I wanted to sleep with a guy who was a year older than me. She never mentioned the fact that half the entries were about my depression and suicidal thoughts.

I feel so bad for this girl. I understand how frustrating it is for people to zero in on, say, TWO posts on a blog without seeing the real AND obvious picture--I am depressed... this is my call for help. But no, people are innately selfish and concentrate on themselves rather than what you're trying to release out of your system: the hate and sadness that you have in your heart. 

These are the demons that haunt my being. These are the things that I must exorcise out of my soul. And if I do not have a place to hold such extractions, then I am doomed to be engulfed by these overwhelming emotions. I deserve a chance to fight. I deserve a chance at happiness.

On my original blog, my first post had a little disclaimer like this: Beware. You have just gone through the looking glass. I now see that I was a little timid in my warning, so here's another: if anyone has a problem with the content of this blog, there are millions of other blog writers that you can go harass. I have enough anger, self-hate, and sadness without you adding on to it. And while we're at it, it's not about you--this is about ME.

I write for me. I write because I must.