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When people look at me they see an overly excited girl, or just another face. Those who think they know me see some of the pain, but don't push the subject. That could be my fault telling them I'm fine and all, but if they truly know me then they'll push untill I break and tell them everything. Now I can tell you all the things I'm not, but that would take longer than telling all that I am. What I am is lonley, depressed, caring, loyal, loving, hopeful, rape victem, ex cutter, survior, sad, perverted, and yet still living. Thoughts of my self-worth plague my mind consently 'why do I bother?' 'what is the point?' but I keep telling myself to move on to be happy. Does it work? Well I'm still here right?