.::Diary of a Lost Girl::.

Dear Diary,

Tonight, I will kill myself.

We've had great times together. And now you hold all the great memories I have locked away. Between your pages, is the life of a girl who faced everything with a happy heart. Now it's all gone, drained from me. Happy doesn't even coincide with my being anymore, so this is why this will be the final passage of my story that you get to hold.

It's been a few good months since I have written to you last, but everything has been going downhill since that day. I'm sorry I wasn't able to bring myself back up, or make myself like I used to. But what's a girl to do, when she's alone and the demons of her past are haunting her; eating away her core and filling her thoughts with horrible, gruesome things? I'm not sure what to do either.

I guess you could never really understand. I used to be such a sweet girl. Sharing all my toys, giving to others without wanting anything in return. But ever since I hit puberty, things changed. I met new people, who were different than me in my values. But, at that time, different was cool. It was good to be different So I started to act like them.

If someone got in my way, instead of saying excuse me and waiting, I said excuse me, and pushed my way through. If someone said something bad about me, I would say something bad about then tenfold. You break my back, well my philosophy was to break your's worse.

I thought it made me stronger, and it did at first. Although, it didn't work out, because I was never bullied. I had a great reputation and a great circle of friends. The only ones who ever seemed to make me mad, was my friends. I guess, that's why I started attacking my friends.

It was little things at first, forget to give them back something of there's. Accidentally break something. Innocent things that hurt them a little, and somehow gave me satisfaction. I never knew it would get out of hand.

So, I started getting into things, such as sex and drugs and violence. You know? The things I said I would never get into? Well, it was a lie I guess.

I became jealous and hurtful and filled with revenge and scorn. It felt like the devil made it's home within me. I needed a way to vent. So I did.

My biggest concern was my own family. My sister who I felt like I had to protect was fading away. She was growing up faster than I was. She was moving on, and I was in the past. I grew jealous. And that feeling built up until I couldn't take it.

My own values have always stayed strong, so when my sister broke those values, the childhood feelings of anger and sick satisfaction grew. So I wrote.

I wrote horrible things. Sick things only a person with my mentality could write. My friends tried to help, but it didn't work. I allowed all my anger to overflow and the product was a huge essay based on my rights and her wrongs. Y little sister had no idea what things I had written. I had wanted to keep it that way.

I can't blame my friends, because they didn't know. They asked to read it, because I was doing nothing but writing. So, I posted it onto my blog so they could read it. I made it as anonymous as I could, and made sure they wouldn't be able to comment. I blocked away everyone else so only those two friends could read it. And my sister of course. At the time, I was so furious, I wanted her to read it. I wanted her to feel like she was being ripped apart.

But fifteen minutes later, I was relieved. I had did what I had done, and I no longer felt the urge to keep it up. So I went to delete the post and then live life with everything off my chest. It would have been perfect! If I hadn't gotten distracted.

I had forgotten about the post, and my sister and I lived greatly, since I no longer felt resentment to her. Of course, everything changed when she called me from her friend house, crying and shouting; sounding like she was being ripped apart. She called me sick and twisted, and at first I didn't understand. Only when she started mentioning it, I remembered that blog I posted. I felt ashamed.

I immediately deleted it, remembering the act I was going to do weeks before hand. Before she would read it. Before I could hurt her. But it's all over.

My own family hates me, and now I doubt that I have any friends anymore. I have no ife and my regret and remorse is eating away at me.

The only way to solve my problems, is death itself.

I guess the devil won me over. Sorry diary, I tried to fight it. But I made too many mistakes.

I'm paying my mistakes with my life. As I hold this gun to my head, I want to say sorry one last time.

So those who read this final entry will understand how I felt. And why I did what I did.