Today I wish I could just disappear. I Can’t do anything right! But it seems as if I could do the things that I comfortable with like passing the remote control or charging my phone. But when it’s someone who wants me to do a list of things, like washing dishes, vacuum, dust. I freeze and my mind seems too busy trying to process what I have to do. And if they could just give me time, privacy(Because I’m self-conscious of trying to clean while other people are in the room) maybe  I could do anything right. The problem is my parents aren’t patient with me, and I know its all my fault. If I could just be normal maybe my parents would love and accept me. I know they don’t and every day, the guilt seems to get worse. It seems I’m happier at being at school then being at home. But what I really want is my Parents, My Family, to love me. I have an Older sister who is the complete opposite of me, Smart, Outgoing, Beautiful, someone who loves life. I know they love her more than me, especially since a year ago she had a baby. I know my Mother dislikes me, having to carry this burden she calls a daughter. Every time we argue I feel as if this dark feeling consumes me even more and I have a breakdown. “Why Did She Have Me? Why didn’t she abort me? Was I a mistake? I’m most of the reason my Mom’s miserable.” The only thing that I can do to help her is disappearing. But it seems I don’t have the courage to do it. I hurt myself almost every day because it seems to get rid of this numbness I get when I cry. Almost every day is when I end up irritating my Mom, Dad, Or Both. I just want my family to be happy again. Wasn’t one daughter enough?

I’m an outcast at school, I hate having any attention, and I hate to make Mistakes. Today I had an argument with my Dad. He asked me if I could reach the end of the sock drawer, and pull some of the socks that he couldn’t reach. It was simple. But as I kept pulling them out, he kept telling me that there was still more. I didn’t like being around my Dad when I was doing a favor because every time I’m corrected, I blame myself for being wrong. My arm was hurting when I kept forcing it to the back of the drawer. I was embarrassed. And when I told him that I couldn’t finish with him in the room, he got agitated and told me he would do it himself. I pleaded with him that I wanted to help, but he just kept saying “I’ll Do it myself.” I know it sounds like he’s mean, but I’m the one to blame. I wish I could be the perfect daughter. And the only way I could do that is to be gone. Not only would it end my pain, but it could end theirs.  The only question for me is “Will life be better without me, and will anyone miss me?”