A/N: Hey! I want some feedback before I continue this, so let me know if you think I should continue. If I don't get anything, I'll take the hint.

Also, you should know that this does not reflect my life in any way. I'm a cheery, bubbly person who happens to like to write dark stuff. :D so enjoy.

~*~ Prologue ~*~

Sometimes, when I'm upset, I take it out in the form of anger... and then I cry. What gets me so upset? A number of things, hormones not being one of them: people telling me I'm stupid; people telling me someone else is stupid; people being judgemental (even when they don't mean to be); people making fun of other people for reasons that they can't help or for non-existent reasons; people who tell other people the flaws they have when they themselves really have no idea at all and have many their selves; people who say they "know you better than you know yourself"; paranoid people and people who think they always know best; people who are rude and don't know when they take things too far; people who don't listen or who think they already "understand," but don't really try to; people who are wrong yet insist they are right or that you're wrong (and then dangle it in your face should they happen to be right for once, even if you weren't arguing); people who blame others for stuff they them self did (they are the same people who take credit for stuff other people did that was good); the fact I worry too much, and that I have done a number of these things in writing this in the first place.

I am grateful for the awesome things in my life, but I also feel guilty because I know I don't deserve any of it. I don't care if there are people a million times worse and more horrible than I am (and there are), I am still not innocent, and I haven't done anything about anything, so I am just as bad as anyone. Anyway, that's not why I'm writing...

So why am I writing? I am writing because of the judged and (dare I say it?) abused, and because I feel I have been judged and abused before. Certain people have not been their nicest. They tell me I'm messy, I'm lazy, I'm stupid I'm dirty, I'm gross, I don't care, I'm ugly, I'm unhealthy, I'm mean, I'm judgemental, I'm a liar, I'm ungrateful, I don't deserve stuff, I'm hateful, I'm violent, they hate me. Now, they are the same people that say I'm pretty, I'm smart, I'm kind, I'm generous, I'm talented, I'm caring, they love me. So it's understandable if I'm kind of having a hard time believing stuff. I may say, however, that none of the negative stuff is ever said directly to my face (as the people so nicely point out). I don't care if you shove it in my face or yell things that imply it – yell at me anything in that angry tone of voice and all it says is "I hate you." These people are the ones that start arguments, and that scream and accuse and get mad before anyone else – they make everything upsetting and frustrating and unbearable, and they complain that they are being mistreated and take everything I say as a "slap" in the face when all I'm trying to say is "Stop yelling at me! I'm not trying to hurt you! Don't hurt me with your yelling!"

And now I speak directly to you, the recipient of this letter: Do you really think you're helping anyone, person who yells, who upsets me? Because you're not. You only make me scared. You're making me hate myself, more than I already do. You remind me of everything regretful I have done. You make me upset. You make me cry. But...then again...maybe you don't "make" me do anything. I do it myself, because of your influence. Everything you say to me I have already thought about myself. You say I'm _? Hah! I know I am!

Maybe that's why I get upset...I don't like being accused blindly, even if it is true. I'd say I hate you in general, but I don't. I can't, at least not all the time. Maybe when you do that, maybe when you yell, but not all the time. Maybe I want to hate you, but I want to love you more. But not when you do that. Not when you accuse me. Yell at me. I hate that.

I don't think you're a bad person. I think you overlook your badness in search of badness elsewhere, even though you're not aware of doing it. I think you need a reality check, if you haven't already gotten one. Maybe you already know your faults, not all of them (hey, no one knows all of their faults), but enough to know who you are. If you don't know, I'm sorry. If you do know, I'm still sorry. I'm sorry I'm writing this, I'm sorry you read it, I'm sorry if you hate me or love me or don't know what to think. I'm sorry for everything.

And I love you.


That's where the page cuts out, burnt black. I don't think anyone knows why, so no one knows who wrote it, or if there was a post script.

A lot of people have read it, that letter, the one with no signature, with the neat, straight, curly writing and no name. There's no "dear" either. There's nothing to identify who could have written it.

And that's the way I meant to write it.