Much Needed Talking

So, uhm, I doubt anyone still checks this blog. But hey, I created it to rant because that's what I tend to do. Well, erm, I took a long absense from blogger. I think almost a half a year? Well, it's been a hard year for me. A really hard year and I just need to let it all out, whether anyone reads it or not.
Let me start off from the last post I posted. It was about edits. Well, that's when I was really into The Vampire Diaries [y'know...my weekly/monthly obsessions. Then it was TVD] and roleplaying TVD. That was pretty fun until my internet was disconnected in August. From August on I didn't really do anything. Until November.
On November 14th, my fifteen-year-old cousin...died. He ended his own life and I was really close to him. Not as close as him and my twin brother, they hung out everyday, but we were still close. We've known each other since he was born. We're six days apart. We went to the same preschool and he was in my class in kindergarten and stuff. He was the reason I got kicked out of preschool. I threw sand in his eyes...I was a bad child. He was also, quite embaressingly, my first kiss. His older sister made us when we were four. But forget that.
I don't want to talk about how he died, but how it affected me. I've never told anyone, but it needs to get out. I guess I feel lonely and ignored. When my cousin died...my brother was the one who got attention. He was the one who everyone felt sorry for. Like he was the only one suffering. The thing is, I was to, but no one saw it. I didn't want anyone to feel sorry for me, and I didn't want attention, but I felt alone. No one understood how I felt. No one understood that I was so hurt about my cousin's actions. Especially my family. To get away from the pain, I blocked everything out. I didn't want anything to do with anyone and I stayed on my computer 24/7. My guy friend talked to me everyday. He was the only one I told about it. How I felt.
Well, one day my mom got so mad at me, I don't know what for, and she said things that hurt me. My older brother to. It was a week after the burying my cousin and I was still sensitive to things. I didn't eat, sleep, and I cried every night. But they didn't know. They didn't know the words they said would hurt so much. I ran to my bedroom, slammed the door, broke things, and than I didn't something I promised I'd never do because it scared me so much.
....I brought a razor to my wrist. I cut myself ten times. Making them look like cat scratches. Most of them I made so they were just red lines, but one of them...one of them was so deep it left a scar and is still visible. It still hurts to and that was half a year ago.
There, I finally said it to someone, if anyone is reading. If not, I don't care. I let it out. That's all I wanted to do. But I've promised myself I'd never do it again, and I haven't.
Even when I found out a girl, my friend, I went to school with since grade 4, killed herself. Or a guy who was like my uncle died.
Well, that's enough. I don't want to share anything else. But...thanks.