The emo Story of my Life.

I have to write a screen play, and I'm drawing blanks.
I'm lonely, and I don't know why.
I'm stupid, and I don't know why.
I'm huge. And I know all too well why.
And I'm probably among the most unattractive people I can think of.
And I'm sitting here, feeling sorry for myself, because I'm a teenage girl who doesn't know anything. I don't know what I want to do when I graduate. I don't even know what I want to do on the days when I don't have to go back to that hell hole and scan groceries for hours and hours. I don't have money. I don't have a plan. I don't have a social life. And I do the dreaded comparison, when you look at another girl walking down the hallway, and I think "why couldn't I have been her?" When I know full well that this girl hurts for reasons I'll never know. She has another world that orbits around something else.
And honestly, I wish I weren't so whiney. I am happy. I'm cheerful most of the time, and a good liar. I have a roof over my head. I have food. I get a paycheque every week. I have wonderfully unconditional friends. But I still whine to this damn blog everytime. As if something about it makes me sad, mad, depressed. As if something about putting my fingers on the keyboard makes me pour out some pessimistic crap that illustrates the teenage mindset of today. The mindset we were taught to hate, but fall into pattern with anyway.
I really don't want to work tomorrow...