Me.
It's a little word for one of the most complex things around.
I'm hard to understand and even harder to describe, but I'll do my best.

I'm a thirteen year old, pansexual female.
If you don't know what a pansexual is, google it.

I do not have a penis.

I never had a penis.

I do not want a penis.

((Just thought I'd clarify, Pansexual and Transexual are very, very different.))
I like pandas.
I would consider myself goth to put a fine point on it.
I go to a school primarily made up of jocks and preps.
I'm 'socially challenged'
I can be very deep and sentimental, but usually I'm just a loon.
I have a group of friends that I love with all my heart.
I hate lying.
I live with my father.
I'm afraid of gates.
I'm into experimental photography.
My ambition is to be a psychologist.
Most people I know think I need serious mental help.
They may be right.
There's more to me than what I look like and what I'm into.
If you look close enough, you'll see me as I am.
I'm just a little different.

And now I'm actually going to try and write something mildly true to myself.

This is what I am, the things I never want anyone to see, and my friends will, and this will hurt them, especially her... I really don't want to hurt her, it's the last thing I want, she's happy, I'm hurt. The only thing that could bring her down is knowing what happened hurt me like it did, but I'm still going to be truthful. No matter what.

I'm fucking pathetic really. It's quarter past twelve, there's no-one online and I'm sitting here, wondering if I'm ever going to leave the computer, I even cut in front of the computer. Yes, bombshell. I cut, like you weren't expecting that. The thing is, I cut while I'm having a perfectly normal conversation with my friends. They know... I'm sure of it. The one who knows for sure has only seen the little ones, (the ones on my arm) and thinks it's only a minor attention grab. Try as I may not to cut there, (too obvious) I always do. Just a little, I get the pain and a little blood, but it's never severe. There's one place I can let go. I said I was going to be truthful, and this is the hardest truth to say, because it's going to break everything. It's my only hope of getting better, so others need to know.

I cut the side of my stomach, still never deep, just a lot of them. Sometimes I wish I could go deeper, to prove to myself I'm not just doing it for attention, because in my head, I still stick steadfast to my old views. Anyone who cuts and tells people is just looking for attention. That's how it is in my mind, but I'm doing this to get help, really I am. I just wish... You know?

This part is for her.

Yes, I almost cried when I found out, almost. The only things that will make me cry is frustration, or cold air on my eyes. Hence 'dead lips blow kisses at her eyes; the only way to make her cry.' Yes, that's all that meant, I like to think it's a talent of mine to make anything sound dark. Yet it always seems such a failed cliché to me.

I'm getting off topic.

I cut over what happened, but also, I hadn't cut for a week, the whole time I was on holidays I couldn't stop thinking about it. It would've happened anyway... Not your fault... None of this is your fault. Please understand that.

I know you think it's bad and what I do is wrong, but who decided cutting was bad, and why is it so?

Yes, it's painful. It wouldn't be effective if it wasn't.

But after... Words can't describe it, it's like an out-of-body experience, but I'm not sure, it could also be that you're so... In your own body that nothing else matters. It's beyond comprehension or explanation.

It's not like I'm cutting deep enough to do any damage either. Only shallow cuts, really they're just like me. Shallow, too afraid to go deeper.

I've only tried to kill myself once. And that wasn't through cutting.

Only two people know.

Now the whole world does.

Still, I could never go through with it... 'Too much to live for' I tell myself, but really it's because If I died, people would go through my stuff, I can't handle that.

You'll know I'm going to kill myself when I burn or throw out all of my things, not just the little ones. Things I don't want people to see.

There's only one fragment of my suicide note left, I keep it in a little silver cylinder on my keychain. It's blank though.

Well... I just completely lost my train of thought. I need to get back on track.

Truth, truth, truth...

I have lied to all of you, I'm sorry.

I lied to you when I told you I was over Andre, I am now, but I wasn't when I first said I was.

I only said I was because he told me he was in love with my sister and it was all my fault that she wouldn't date him.

He was right though, If she knew how much I was killing myself inside just so she could be with him, she never would've done it.

That was the beginning of a chain of events. A chain of which is still going, but I can tell you how it'll end.

That was when I first started shutting down. I'm still getting used to the whole 'I'm fine' thing, but it's getting easier.

Actually, when I think about it, that wasn't where it started, it started when I lost one of my closest friends.

She was always so strong. “I'm fine.” She'd say, I knew she wasn't, but I let it be. Then, when I expressed concern. Let's just say it didn't end well.

She'll be angry I wrote this, I'm sure of it, but I hope she understands that I'm trying to pinpoint the part where everything came crashing.

After that, she was always fine. Always. I'm sure she'll never open up to me again after what happened, so fine she will stay.

I tried to be 'fine'.

I forgot how much it hurt me when she was doing it, focusing only on the admiration of her strength.

I long to be able to do that.

So I try, this is where I first shut down.

Now I'm pushing away my best friend, with lies and denial that anything is amiss, she knows I'm doing it, but she's doing what I did.

I can see now that it will end badly. But I can't stop.

I'm in too far and quite frankly, I'm not sure I want to come back.

I will push away my friends, never express anything, hurt the people I love and hurt myself.

That my friends, is how this will end. You will all be hurt and you will grow to hate me.

That's the bitter truth of the situation.

I'm watching myself turn into a human train-wreck and I'm not going to do anything about it, simply because the idea of watching self-destruction from the inside and having the power to stop it, but not bothering, because it is so fascinating to watch is in itself an amazing process.

It's the psychologist in me wanting to observe, merely out of curiosity.

I think I have problems.

That's the hardest-to-follow, mind jumble, train of thought, explanation or whatever you'd like to call it. Ever written.

This is going to hurt a lot of people, cause a lot of trouble, and get me sent away.

I'm not sure if anyone's ever going to get the chance to read this. If you're reading this, it means I've finally given up on hiding. Finally.