So Much! I Don't Know What To Do!

I am feeling miserable. Incompetent. Handicapped. The true reasons I cannot reveal. But it isn't about me. Or it is.

I feel horrible inside when somebody yells at me. Even if someone raises their voice towards me. When they look me as if I had just hurt them. I got one of those looks from Jose today, but that is because I snapped at him. I regret it. Badly. I apologized but I still feel really bad.

I was pretty much yelled at for being absent yesterday. I can't help it lady.

Ms. Jesse called my piece sublime. I am sorry, I have to go right now: there's a know in my throat and I need to go and lie to my parents. I truly love you! Thanks for caring for me

The following I typed before I typed the above.

I am sometimes pretty good at hiding my own feelings. I consider myself a good liar. But I let stuff get to me too much. I let stuff go wrong sometimes. I feel like I let people down. I feel like some things are my fault. I try to have everyone happy. I try my hardest to ignore it when I am depressed.
Sometimes I just go and cry in the shower and when my parents see my eyes all red and stuff I lie to them and tell them soap got into my eyes. Then I go and cry some more in bed. There's just no other way.
I've come to think of suicide. But it doesn't get too serious so don't worry about it. Is it weird that I often dream up my own death? Is it weird that I dream up the "perfect" death? I just love to imagine that I will be forever remembered and missed.

Crying hurts me. Somehow. But that's when I truly let go and let time fix stuff. I guess I am just not really ready for life. Is it bad that I am texting friends and telling them I'm all right? That I tell them I am truly okay when I am not? Is it okay for me to cry while I type this?

I don't know if it's because I am the way I am. Or if it is because I am surrounded by people I love and they end up hurting me somehow. It really hurts. And the pain is always there. I don't show it though. I never do. Or at least I try not to.

There is no day I don't want to cry. Yet I act peachy and nice. There are notes I've written in my notebooks before. For that one day I'm not here.