So, I can’t believe I actually brought myself to register for this website. I sit here and cry a little, wondering if I’m really ready to tell the world what’s going on inside. I’m afraid… afraid of what people will think of me. I almost think it’s better to lie sometimes, to tell everyone that those scars are just from animals or something. Anything that they would believe… I want to be safe. I don’t want to be afraid. I’m so good at putting on a pretty plastic smile, telling them all that I’m fine. Inside though… I know I’m dying. I know it. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t alive. That’s most of the time actually. I just want to be someone else… someone different.. Like maybe, if I was someone thinner, and more beautiful, people would love me. I would be happy. But instead I’m left here, with scars on me. Wondering why God, if he exists, would make me like this? If he really loved me, why would he make me ugly?