Stupid, huh?

I guess this is pretty stupid.

It feels pretty stupid, as I don’t blog anymore and all.

Stupid, huh?

I’m not doing so great, guys. I’m in my last year of school now. I hate practically all the girls in my school, and 97 percent of the boys as well. I feel like an outcast. I’m involved/not involved with this guy who has a girlfriend and it makes me feel like a worthless piece of.. ah. And what’s more? I feel like I can’t even get out. But I can’t complain, I am the one after all who always said that she didn’t want a relationship as to avoid getting hurt. ..That plan evidently isn’t working out so well. I am so near the brink now and I just need someone to take me, head on, and give me a solution. It’s almost as if I’m surrounded by this aura of self loathing when I’m alone.

Why does every fucking person say it will get better? It doesn’t. It hasn’t. 3 years on and I’m still suffering from depression. I’m still suffering from bulimia. Struggling with self hate. Turning to alcohol every now and again. I am just, just so drained. Have you ever been in that state of mind where you don’t know if you need company or space? I’m at that stop right about now.

I don’t know what else to type.

Now

“Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.”

Please

The First

And to this very droplet of time
I feel it
Within my very being,
My thoughts and my words,
From the depths of my fingertips
To the angles of my mind,
In what I have done,
In what I have failed to do,
For yet have I to find
A next
That is as pure
As the first

Nobody Knows

Maybe 1 in every million people wear the same cologne as you. And out of all of them, collectively, I might pass by one of those people in every 4 months. And everytime I do, a wave of nostalgia hits me. The sinking feeling starts, and I have to remind myself to take deep breaths. My mind begins to dart around, drastically. Flitting around from breaking to broken to not even walking straight.

One of those people walked onto this bus about 3 minutes ago.

Honesty

Okay it’s not that I have something wrong with me, as fucked up as this blog is. It’s just I take everything personally. The smallest thing will get to me, from a joke about my hair to something I say. And when it gets to me I do get really sad, and I don’t really know why.

I guess it really gets to me when my “group” don’t invite me out. I guess I’m kind of stuck between 2 groups, it’s weird. It gets to me though. It’s like, I’m just as much of a person as you are and we spend every lunch together.. WHAT is your problem? Just because I’m not as hot as the others, seriously?

And when stuff goes wrong I do lose control and hurt myself. It’s not a craving though, it’s more like in frustration. A release of tension. And I do have problems eating, I know that too. I get worried and angry and I’m hugely oversensitive and complicated. I get paranoid and hold grudges sometimes, overprotective too, and jealous. I’m probably quite annoying, and too hyper.

But you know what at least I’m honest about it. At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not in a group of people and I’ll say what I feel and when I feel it. At least I’m not one of those people who exclude others and act like nothing happened.

And I may be fucked up, but at least I’m honest about it.

Change

But is it really I who have changed? Or is it your perception of me?

I’ve always found it sad that the only two things that seem to remain the same are death and change. It scares me to think that if I was to fast forward 5 years I’ll be in my 20’s. That I may not even know the people whom I see every day now. It scares me how quickly a life can change.

We had a talk in school the other day about driving and how dangerous it is. It scared me that someone can go from normal to permanently disfigured in the space of around 0.3 seconds. But I guess in whatever you do, something is going to change. Whether it’s the way you look, your outlook on a situation, or an aspect of your personality, we’re all constantly developing and changing.

So maybe it isn’t I who have changed, maybe it’s a perspective, an outlook, a feeling. Maybe it’s a circumstance branching into change that causes the most pain; growing into a new environment can be painful after all. I guess no matter how badly you want everything to stay the same, the world is going to carry on spinning whether you get out of bed in the morning or not.

So wake up kid, and welcome to the real world.

If I Were Me

When I was younger I used to imagine that there was an underground channel from my room to another world. I used to fall asleep wishing Harry Potter and Hermione Granger would befriend me in my sleep. I used to look forward to bedtime, you know. It was the time that I could drift away into my own happiness.

Used to.

Past tense.

Recently I haven’t been myself. I’m beginning to listen to different music, speak differently, act differently, treat others differently. I’ll admit, a lot things have gotten to me; maybe that’s it. Maybe I’ve been pushed too far this time. Maybe I’ve cared too much to carry on caring, because by caring I’ve just made myself vulnerable.

I’ve been confused. And in this pit of confusion, I’ve found myself forgetting to keep my feet on the ground, and now it’s like I’ve floated up so high that I can’t get back down.

I can’t, or I won’t?

What is this? Where am I in myself? I feel like I can’t open up any more. It’s like that feeling when you’re locked in your house, and you’re desperately searching for an open window just to give yourself room to breathe. When you’re frantically running round, holding onto the handle of the door, pulling as hard as you can – but it stands firm, despite your intentions.

Your tainted, rusted intentions that have become jarred into the ground with time.

I feel like I can’t breathe. I’m suffocating in myself. As I progress writing this, I’m locked in my study trying my very best not to break down, delete this post, and let tears escape. 

If there was a key I could bury through my skin to prise myself open, I would use it, I swear. It’s like I’ve lost the key to my own front door. So familiar with myself, yet such an inability to master and control it.

What am I turning into? The only thing I am sure of, is that my 13 year old self would look with scorn and disgust at what I’ve become.

I wouldn’t be my own friend, if I were me.