I just want to be hit by ten thousand trucks

I feel at a major loss. My shoulders are carrying boulders of harsh realities, loss of hope, bad habits, old habits, a broken heart. My creative flow has stopped. My inspiration has fled. And my belief in anything has been cut by the sharpest pair of scissors the devil could find. I'm just drifting.
I stayed in the washroom doing not much for a while longer than usual. I'm going back to that dirty habit. I used to do this in gr. 8. It's the warmest room in my house, the lighting is brighter, and I feel total privacy. This privacy could get dangerous. My deepest secrets and greatest fears have taken place in the bathroom.
You abandoned me and it all went down hill from there.
She's squished my opinions and hopes. I'm just doing things to get her approval now. Nothing for my own enjoyment.
I have to stop crying now so that I can go upstairs and watch tv.