All right. I’m sorry, everyone.

I can’t take being on here anymore. It’s been... since, probably Halloween since I last updated. And that doesn’t seem like a long time, but it is, it really is. Even a week is quite a bit of time. I'm cold, alone, and no one bothers to speak to me.
No one’s spoken to me, and I’ve spoken to no one because I'm never answered. There's no point.
I’ve been mocked in school like crazy, and I'm becoming that goth girl everyone hates. I get it all the time, both online and in real life I’m losing my sanity, slowly, day by day. I want to die, to be honest, even when I can’t, even when I shouldn’t give up. It's not like I'm being Emo about it; I just can't take everything.
My life fucking sucks, I can make it sounds so much better than it is, and I wish I could end the stress. My dad hates me, he says I’m dead to him, and he wants me to leave. I'd rather.
Everyone has turned their back on me, except for about three people. I’m swimming in a sea of lonely, sinking into an endless pit of despair, choking on nothing, praying for some sort of redemption. Sleep isn't even safe for me anymore.
I’m not saying I’m disappearing off the face of the internet, every day I come home and turn my computer on in hopes I can block it out for a little while. You can still talk to me if you want to, but don’t expect the same happy-go-lucky Yume you knew, or for even an answer at times. I’m probably not even funny anymore, as if I was before anyway.
AIM: whisperedwinters
MySpace
I’ve changed so much since that day about two or three years ago. I don’t know. I can’t remember. My whole life’s turned so many ways, I can’t even find myself anymore, and I’m tired of trying to.
Someone kill me, give me two shots to the back of the head, stake my heart, do something, make all of this go away, something. Or at least lie to me and tell me that things are going to be okay.
I’m almost in the eighth grade, and I want to fade from the face of the earth. I want to slit my wrists, but that won't do any good. I won't make any other scars.
I’m going to take a risk and try to become a rock star.
I’m going to get my nose pierced as soon as I turn sixteen.
I’m going to start smoking in a few months.
I’m going to get a tattoo of a gun and a broken rosary tangled in it on my shoulder on my eighteenth birthday.
I wanna drop twenty pounds, and I'm probably one thirty now after not eating.
I might do drugs once or twice in high school, and drop out on my Sweet Sixteen.
I don’t even know what the fuck else, and I don’t fucking care anymore. There are some things I haven’t decided yet.
This summer, I’m going to go to Warped Tour when it comes.
Final Chance is going to enter the Battle of the Bands.
Eighth grade, and I’ll do what I’m doing now. Try, but if I can’t, do enough to get by on.
High school, and I’ll do whatever I can to get into Pompano Beach High. The three of us are going to try to get in there. But that means A's through a full semester.
Life is going to hand me lemons, I know it is. So I’m going to take those lemons and make grape juice, and watch everyone ask how the fuck I did it.
The next time you probably hear from me, or probably the first time you’ll probably really see me is if I somehow hit the big time.
So good luck on your dreams. Keep fighting, and they’ll come true someday if you just believe, minna-san.
In the words of my hero, ‘be yourself, don’t take anyone’s shit, and never let them take you down alive’.
If I ever decide to start over, I might not tell anyone. ‘Cause I doubt anyone gives a shit.
I loved you all, though. Really. It was fun while it lasted.

We’ll meet again...

[If you’re on Gaia Online... I’m there somewhere. You should know me well enough to find me, if you even care.]