crying in trees

Last night around midnight, I went outside. Mom was talking on the phone, and I knew she would hear the door open, but I didn't think she'd bother to follow me. In fact, this morning she told me that she heard the door open and said to her new boyfriend on the phone, "Well, whoever it was, they're bound to come back inside, so I'm not worried about it."
And so I went outside without anyone stopping me.


I was hugging my downy-feather pillow to my chest and burying my mouth in it. I walked to the left, over to the old lady next door's house, and I climbed her tree. I brushed myself off in case of any ants and sat there for around fifteen minutes, crying. I don't want to say why I was crying, but I was.
I half hoped for Mom to come outside and comfort me, but she didn't. It was better that I was alone, anyway, because I've been crying over the same thing for months now.
I just don't like my life. It's rotten. Most people who read this, I presume, will think, "Oh, her life is fine. She shouldn't whine about it." Well, go ahead and be shallow. I couldn't care less. You don't know what it's like, you haven't experienced it. You think your life is harder than mine. Most people think that their life is the hardest. They think, "No one else knows how I feel", when probably a million other people have gone through the same thing. I guess the same is true for me. But I can't handle it. I go and cry in friggin' trees, dude. I'm not emotionally secure.
I ran out of fluoxetine a few days ago and Mom says it's an antidepressant, so that's why I'm "moody". No, I've felt like this for several months now, and I have no one to vent to. (Unless you count my cat. Lame.)
I need help. At the little meeting today I requested a PSR worker. I used to really hate them, but now I want one. I think they really help. I'm just worried, because my two favorite ones, Amy and Stacy, left after a year.

I miss them. :(