Journaling

So I was told that if I wanted to hate myself less I had to write about my feelings.
I mean. I guess?? Sure. Whatever.
I've tried like. A billion times to have like a diary or journal or whatever, but it's never really worked out. It's usually because I figured that if I couldn't keep up with it, it wasn't a reputable enough source, and didn't perfectly outline my life at the time of writing it.
But you know. Fuck it, right?
So I guess I. Introduce???? Myself??
Like what is the point. No one is going to see this, besides my therapist. Probably.
But hey maybe someone on Tumblr will give a shit and ask to see my "Super Cool Secret Blog". Or probably I'll force it on Zach and Jaime because without attention I will Die.
Alright. Here goes.

My name is Michael and I think I'm real?? I mean, like. I probably am. I'm a sophmore in high school, and I live in the middle of Buttfuck Nowhere, New Hampshire. I'm so deep into the woods that it's a normal occurrence to see a deer in the backyard. Or multiple deer. Yesterday, Dad says he saw a whole flock!!
Herd. It's herd.
I suppose I should mention now that I have little to no self-esteem and a fucked up brain. I have this sort of matyr complex, where I always put others before myself. Even when I'm alone.
That usually ends with putting myself down instead of bringing others up, because there isn't anyone to bring up.
Think of it as Cole from Dragon Age. I don't matter. Helping others matters.

Incidentally, I also am Cole from Dragon Age. And many others. But I'll get into that some other time.