Ramblingg~

Note: I'll post here once I get my thoughts organized.
I'm in one of those moods where I keep blanking and spacing out. Generally, I can't keep a single thought flowing. This is bad because I'm trying to write today, but could be because one of my friends, J.P., told me she attempted suicide (again) last night. Or it's the caffiene. Or the fact that all my tears seemed to be reserved for myself. What a selfish brat.
We had our Christmas concert last night and apparently did amazing. Mom said I looked beautiful, but I think she's full of it. I've never been beautiful. Sure, sure, I pretended I was the best frickin thing that this world had ever seen, that nothing could touch me, but look at where that got me.
I like to pretend that when I'm at school, my acting is perfected, to the point that the pain is lost. I like to think that when I'm seen outside of school, the pain of new cuts obvious on my expression, I seem like a stranger to those who have only seen me there at school. I like to pretend that I don't trust people, because I shouldn't. The people I threw most of my trust to turn it against me, cause me to mutilate me. I like thinking that my reasons for hating you, J.R., is justified. You don't tell one of your friends, who you happen to know that is cutting, to kill themself or that the world is better without them. Don't try to act like we're friends now. J.P. told me that she thought I was just trying to ruin her relationship until I showed her the messages. Yeah, I like pretending I don't trust everyone even though I've been hurt like this. I like pretending that striding with my head held high means something to me. I love pretending that people can relate to me because we've all been to our own little section of Hell at least once.
Isn't it funny how the world seems huge when I'm full of hope, and tiny and suffocating when I'm lonely? Truly, I'd do anything, almost, to kill this loneliness. Though I guess that would mean forgetting everything I've taught myself and being real at school. I'll admit it, I don't have many friends and I realize that most the people who say they're my friends would high tail it away from me if they ever saw the reality of me. They don't see a lot. They don't see the depression, the anxiety, the angry, the self-harm... I can bottle it all up when they're looking, release it when they aren't. All they get to see is happiness, optimism, smiles, compliments, the perfectly weaved together lies.
Why is it so easy to be what they want when before them? Why is it so easy to keep these broken emotions in tact when they're askin me to dance to their tune? Why is it so easy to do what they ask, while only slightly breaking the normal? Why is easy to be different, but pleasant when they ask? Am I merely their dog with a long enough chain to believe I'm free, while knowing I'm not?