With every yawn comes another unheard sob

Bright Eyes makes me cry. Life makes me cry. I am nothing but a little girl playing grown up. I hope I do not feel this way for the rest of my mortal days. I am known for my evilness, for my sneakiness, for my insanity. I am not known for the dreams that I never have (and never will) share(d) with anyone, especially not myself. I shall never regain the raw and utter beauty that existed behind the black eyes I once had. I was at home in hell. I felt beautiful and pure... in some ways I was too terrified to be anything but. There are those in the world that want only to love and cherish me and to make the world peachy keen for me... to show me that not everything is so bleak, and that abuse does not need to be a part of my life. These people will never understand me. I admire and appreciate their honorable intentions; I really do. I'm glad that anyone in the world might value my existence enough to attempt such a task. It pains me that I feel lost without someone putting me down on a fairly regular basis. I find myself putting myself down for it. Isn't that just perfect irony? 0_o