Dear Diary, I'm so sad

Dear Diary, hey, it's me again. Are you surprised to hear from me so late at night? or would this be considered early in the morning. I think this would be considered late at night since I haven't slept since I woke up this morning to go to work. It is 4:48 in the morning. I guess it's a good thing I don't have work tomorrow. Today has felt so long. Like it would never end. And me not being able to sleep has only made it so much worse, so much longer. Sigh, I really need to get a hang of my sleep schedule. Sleeping pills have stopped working for me. I suppose my body has built up an immunity to them. I guess the doctor was right. Anyways, I really just can not sleep, and this time, it is not because of a thunderstorm or due to people blowing up my phone, no that's not what's keeping me up. Guess I don't have something to blame for my inability to sleep. In all honesty, I can not stop thinking about that night. Maybe that's why I can not find it in me to be able to sleep. Something as simple as sleeping, and I can not even do that. I can't really talk to anyone about it. When I try to, I just close up. My palms get clammy, and all I can think about is the negative ways they could react, so I guess, all I have is you. A damn journal. I want to be able to talk to people about that night, but it's just so hard to open up. I already got hurt once. A journal can't hurt me. Okay, I'm acting like someone broke up with me. But it's not like that. Maybe it is. What are you supposed to call it when your oldest sister, someone you look up to for advice, someone who's supposed to cheer you up when you're feeling the saddest, tries to take her own life. Let's you walk in on her hurting herself. I can't get into the details, but all I know is I didn't understand what I had seen. I mean, of course I know what I saw. She was bleeding out on her freshly carpeted bedroom floor. But now that I'm older, I understand why she had to go away for almost a year. Why she had seemed so drained. Life had taken the most out of her. She didn't see what she had going for her in life. Our mom had sold her own life away when she started dating a man. He was a bad man. He didn't deserve to be in our life. When he started touching her, my sister, any mother would immediately leave him, but like I said, she had sold her life away pretty much. She depended on him for a place to live, money to get by on. But now I'm not as angry with her as I used to be. Don't get me wrong, I'm still angry with her. She almost left my other sister and I. That's something she would never be able to take back. But I understand her sadness. I personally feel it too. That deep, sadness that just makes your heart shrivel up like a clumped up piece of paper. It will never be as pretty or smooth as it used to be. It will always have dents in it, dents I will always feel, but others won't. Why won't they? Because I prefer to keep my heart inside of me, instead of allowing myself to puke up my emotions. Too scared that it will make others, who have actually stayed with me, run away, run far away and never come back. But, I do not think that's the only reason I can not sleep. Oh no, journal, that's not the only reason. There are many other reasons I constantly lose sleep. I keep going back to think about how I still don't understand how I can have so much hatred towards myself, towards my body. I can be having so much fun with my friends some days, yet on some days, the only thing that that matters is how I look in a crop top, a pair of shorts or even leggings. I can not sleep when all I can think about is my flaws. The bumps on my face, how many rolls of fat I have counted today, the fact that I have no thigh gap, or a beautiful, golden tan. Honestly, I need to tell you something, even if you are only a journal. I have always had this little voice inside of my head. Maybe it's my subconscious. But it is always telling me what I am good at, and what I am bad at. But recently, it's been telling me more negatives than positives. It tells me to be like the beautiful women I see in fashion magazines. A part of me knows some of those photos are photo shopped, that even the most beautiful women have flaws, but it's hard to listen to that part. In conclusion, I am just so, so scared that everyone around me will see me how I see myself. Maybe if I get to the point where I want to talk to people, to open up to, will just show them this journal. After all, all of my feelings, both happy and sad are written in here. Maybe that will be much easier than trying to form my feelings into words, to spit out word vomit. All of my words are in here, the best way I can describe how I feel is by writing my feelings down. Okay, now it is already almost 6 in the morning. Maybe I should really try and go to bed. It will probably be best anyways, that is if I want to get anything done when I wake up. Thank you for letting me vent to you, journal. You have always been there for me. Goodnight.