I'm sorry for my existence! I never meant to cause any harm to anyone, and I'm living in constant fear, regret, anxiety, and depression. I feel like no matter what I try to do, my mental health will never improve, because there's always going to be at least one thing or person holding me back. It's been that way, and it's always going to be that way for the rest of my life, until I'm dead. I've kept trying and trying, but I still think about committing suicide, and it hurts me to know that I can actually kill someone with rude words. I never wanted trouble, and I never asked for any of this perpetual torture. Things used to be so good, I used to have tons of friends, but one by one, they've all been leaving me because they're so easily offended by my interests. I just can't live knowing that I'm always going to be harassed by someone salty. Nobody cares what I say, think, do, or make, people are still going to hate me. Every day, I think about if anyone would care if I was dead. The answer is always "not really." I wish I could just go back and fix my mistakes, but this isn't kindergarten class where everything's rainbow sunshine unicorns. This is real life, where there's death, pain, suffering, and hysteria everywhere. It's hard to forget about the past when it's constantly being brought up. I've lost almost everything I love in life to easily offended jackasses, and, by this point, I'm just too depressed. Too depressed to even bring myself to self-harm. To everyone, I'm just a selfish, insensitive, dangerous, perverted, lying jerk. I always seem to be the cause of a lot of problems, and I'm tired of it. Being here just causes more suffering for myself and everyone around me. It doesn't matter. None of this matters. Life is no longer worth living, but I'm too much of a coward to commit suicide, so I have to take in more pain. Nobody will ever read this anyway, because all they expect from me is just endless comics and art. Even then, nobody looks at that either, nor do they even like it. I'm trying to get at a better place mentally, but what's the point? It's just another problem that's never going to go away. I never want to be depressed again, is that too much to ask for? Yes, it is, apparently, because, by this point, my self-esteem is so low, I wake up and realize that I'm still alive, and that's a bad thing. There's just no point anymore, and I don't know when to quit, or what's wrong with me.