I'm sorry.

I haven't posted in a while. I have been aruging with myself about writing in journals, on blogs, making poems, drawing... all of it. I've been asking myself over and over again why I do it. Why do we do it? Once we die we are all going to be forgotten and none of it is going to matter anymore. None of us are as important as George Washington or as horrible as Hitler. Why are we wasting our time making blogs that no one is going to read. Why do I write in journals when there is no one there that even cares to listen to me anyways?
If I try to talk to people about what's going on, no one understands. I just get lectured about how I need to change myself, and how miserable im going to be if I don't blend in. I try so hard to get the people in my life that matter to me to understand me and love me for me, but they don't care.
Sometimes I feel like my family loves me cause they have to. Guys only want me cause they need someone to make out with. The girls at my school only want someone to sit with at lunch cause there new.
I don't see a purpose anymore. I don't see a reason to fight. I want my dad alive again. Now my grandpa is fading fast and my mom will have to go through what I go through every day... except for there is one difference... her dad got to live to watch her grow up, and she had him there.
"As soon as the dirt is hitting the casket, it will all be forgotten."
-Eric Bogosian