Hey.
Yeah.
Wow.
I’m so confused.
Like I am in a bunch of pain right now. I can’t even write my novel (the one I was writing about the girl getting the scholarship etc.) I can’t.
Not emotional pain btw.
I just got my braces tightened and it fucking hurts. It feels like my mouth has just died inside of me. No seriously.
I’m just sitting here listening to Ultraviolence by Lana Del Rey, and the Disk is so colourful it makes me feel kind of whole in a way. I don’t know.
Apart from my teeth, gums and jaw in serious pain- I am quite confused.
I’m confused at everything that’s happening, it feels like everything’s changing but it also feels like every day is the same. It’s too complicated to explain.
I’m stuck in this constant replay and nothing is getting better.
I don’t know what the hell is going on with my parents, and I’m trying to stay out of it but they keep including me in it and I really just don’t want to be included in it. I just want to stay out of it.
I’m lonely.
I know I sound like some love struck teenager longing for some attention/company with nights so long ‘she has to fake the smile.’
Ew.
No.
I hate those fucking people.
Fucking annoying attention whores.
I just really am lonely and I wish I wouldn’t feel so lonely, because maybe I could go out without feeling like I’m going to get bored.
Maybe I could not feel like an idiot every second of my existence.
Maybe I wouldn’t need to say ‘SHUT UP’ in my head every time I think about something I’ve said, something I’ve done, or to just think about the future.
I’m so worried and scared and depressed and it has just become me.
It’s not just ‘getting depressed sometimes’ it’s become me. It is the core of me. Every bone in my body. It has become me.
I want to say that things have changed, that I’ve changed, that I’ve become a better person- that I’ve stopped repeating myself over and over again. That I’m not the same person I used to be.
But I still am.
I still like her, and I hate how I have to lie about it.
Because the truth is it’s NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN. And I swear I whisper it every day, EVERY FUCKING DAY- that yes- she’s straight or bisexual or whatever – it can’t happen.
I am the person that blends in, I am that person. I am not interesting. I am not some girl who fucking goes home and cries, I’ve always done that, before it became some stupid trend to be depressed or whatever.
I am different and I hate it.
I am not popular.
She is.
It’s fucking stupid- social statuses really, but it’s true someone like her can’t be with someone like me- how can she ever notice me if I never do anything about it.
This is life, people don’t notice you when you are insecure, being insecure isn’t ‘quirky’ or ‘cool’ it fucking sucks, because no one wants to be with someone insecure.
I can’t even control my own secret.
Apparently my mum’s told a lot of my family that I’m gay ages ago.
I have no say in my own fucking sexual orientation.
MY. SEXUAL. ORIENTATION.
I am so angry I can’t even control it anymore. I hate being angry. It sucks so much. It sucks it sucks it sucks!
She’s never going to like me.
And everyone fucking tells me that- AS IF I DONT FUCKING KNOW.
But I can’t just get over her.
It’s the most difficult thing to do. Just ‘get over’ someone. I can’t.
My problems are stupid and minor and miniscule but they’re my problems. MY. PROBLEMS.
And I just want to be with someone, I want to be good with someone, I want to be in a relationship with a girl. I want to feel that. I want to feel loved.
Am I asking for too much?
Do I have enough and I’m just being selfish and spoilt?
Is it too much to ask for? Because everyone seems to have someone in mind and I just can’t seem to do anything.
I can’t not feel bad.
I can’t not feel depressed.
I have tried everything.
Going out, looking for happiness within myself, not being negative, accept compliments, write, read, sing, dance, act, not look at depressing things, stay away from depressing people but that’s the problem- it never works – none of it. It’s not people around me. It’s me.
I am the problem.
I am what’s wrong.
And this is what I want to say.
To my mum, to my family, to my friends, not for pity- so they can understand because I can’t explain it, because I just can’t seem to say the right words, and I can barely right because it hurts.
It really fucking hurts.
Writing. Writing it does nothing though.
I’m typing my ass away on a website that no one sees and no one is going to see.
What does it matter?
What does anything I do matter?
When does it ever matter?
I am just a human being among all the rest, the 7 billion people on this planet. People around me are going through the same things and worse.
So, why should I be the one who gets help?
What’s so hard with my life that I can’t seem to pull myself together?
To not ‘get over it’ or to not ‘get over her’
The truth is, you are an island.
That’s the thing, eventually people are going to get tired of you, they’ll say they’re there for you and that they are here to talk to, but when they realize the chronic pain, and the constant never ending problems and whining all you are to them is a burden, and then the best thing is to shut up.
And not care.
Because they don’t. No one wants to hear depressing things. Not really.
It’s so true and when you realize that things are just so unreal it’s scary. It’s so scary because no one is really ever there.
Not until you find that right person.And who knows how long that will take?
It’s worth the wait.
That is what I keep on saying in my head.
That’s the one thing that isn’t keeping me from killing myself.
No exaggeration, no forced empathy. It’s the truth.
I just can’t keep on doing this, I can’t keep on going through the same things, I can’t accept myself and the way I am, I can’t keep on living a life that doesn’t seem to be well fit for me.
I can’t do this.
Honestly.
I can’t.
The only thing I do is fuck up.
The only thing I do is lie.
The only thing I do is be me.
And I hate me.
So much that I can’t even bare to look at it.
I can’t look at me. Or anything that represents me. I just can’t.
Why would she ever like me?
She has a boyfriend, she’s happy with him- and I’m just the girl she doesn’t know, that she doesn’t even acknowledge, and that’s not her fault. Not once have I ever made myself apparent.
She’s happy. And if I was in that situation I would hate the person that ruined that.
I am not going to be that person.
Seeing stories and tales and movies of all this bullshit of how things end up don’t work.
They just give you some type of hope that doesn’t exist. Really. That’s it. It’s fake hope.
And that’s the worst thing ever, because these things just don’t happen. This is life, and life is a son of a bitch and we all know that, and life is fair- because it’s unfair to everybody, at the end of the day you fuck it up.
You fuck things up.
Not life.
Life is just something that’s given to you.
What you do with it, is ultimately your choice.
And this is mine.
Depressed,stupid,cliche,silly,naive,idiotic,anxious fucking me.
I have made myself this person, and now I have got to deal with the consequences.
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