I am not depressed.
It's funny, because technically I should be. There are so many things going wrong with my life, and people walking out of it and slamming the door behind them. But somehow I'm not. It's weird that life works that way, and instead of me wanting to just stop, I want to move on out of this dreary place, but I want to make things right instead of making them worse.
Not that I'm doing much of that.
But still, it's funny how I have no reason to be depressed and I am, and now I have every reason to be and I'm not, but maybe it's because there's so much anger filling me that there's not exactly room for blue.
It's all anger towards me. Just look at the inside of my cheek. I've been biting it off and on for the past week, and I just can't stop no matter how much I want to or try to. It's going to start bleeding soon, but for now it's a lump. And there's a scab on my leg because I scratched it in my dream-world last night, along with the palm of my left hand, which I scratch when I'm nervous but apparently also scratch in traumatic sleep.
So there's physical scars as well as mental ones.
I don't think I've ever had an argument (that wasn't a silly non-argument) with Georgie. Or Danica. Or a million other people that are currently making me burst into words like Sorry or no words at all, because they take every opportunity to leave. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I just want somebody to tell me how to fix it.
Because no matter how much people enjoy hating on others, it's not fun being the person people don't like. For the past few months I've been watching my friends dislike one of our group, but now I realize she's not bad. And now I'm going to break down crying because I'm not strong like she was.
Hey, I'm sorry for the millionth time but never the last. I'm sorry for the person I see in the mirror, but I'm sorry that I can't change if I don't know what to change.
And people may say I've always been this way, but who likes having their mouth fill with blood? I don't.
But I know I just have to do something about this.
Like how this morning I woke up with a stomachache like I haven't had since the week from sixth grade when I got them daily. I was curled up in my bed kicking my blankets and mentally screaming (not really screaming or I would wake family) and wishing I could just stop so the pain would, too.
But something inside me decided that I wasn't going to let it stop me. So I stood despite the pain and went about life like I normally did, and soon enough it was gone in time for breakfast.
I guess there's a lesson you learn from everything, which is what I explained to my little sister yesterday when she got in trouble for spilling nail polish all over and basically ripping her nails off (don't worry it's not as gruesome as you may think).
"Even I learn lessons sometimes," I told her yesterday.
It's true.
So I just don't know what I'm supposed to learn from this, or how to fix it, but I ... I'm going to try.
Danica gave me cards for my birthday with things about me. Currently I'm wondering if any of them are true. Yesterday I decided for kicks and giggles that I'd flip it open to look at one.
This is what it said:
YOU'RE UP TO ANY CHALLENGE
We'll see.
It's funny, because technically I should be. There are so many things going wrong with my life, and people walking out of it and slamming the door behind them. But somehow I'm not. It's weird that life works that way, and instead of me wanting to just stop, I want to move on out of this dreary place, but I want to make things right instead of making them worse.
Not that I'm doing much of that.
It's all anger towards me. Just look at the inside of my cheek. I've been biting it off and on for the past week, and I just can't stop no matter how much I want to or try to. It's going to start bleeding soon, but for now it's a lump. And there's a scab on my leg because I scratched it in my dream-world last night, along with the palm of my left hand, which I scratch when I'm nervous but apparently also scratch in traumatic sleep.
I don't think I've ever had an argument (that wasn't a silly non-argument) with Georgie. Or Danica. Or a million other people that are currently making me burst into words like Sorry or no words at all, because they take every opportunity to leave. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I just want somebody to tell me how to fix it.
Because no matter how much people enjoy hating on others, it's not fun being the person people don't like. For the past few months I've been watching my friends dislike one of our group, but now I realize she's not bad. And now I'm going to break down crying because I'm not strong like she was.
Hey, I'm sorry for the millionth time but never the last. I'm sorry for the person I see in the mirror, but I'm sorry that I can't change if I don't know what to change.
And people may say I've always been this way, but who likes having their mouth fill with blood? I don't.
But I know I just have to do something about this.
Like how this morning I woke up with a stomachache like I haven't had since the week from sixth grade when I got them daily. I was curled up in my bed kicking my blankets and mentally screaming (not really screaming or I would wake family) and wishing I could just stop so the pain would, too.
But something inside me decided that I wasn't going to let it stop me. So I stood despite the pain and went about life like I normally did, and soon enough it was gone in time for breakfast.
I guess there's a lesson you learn from everything, which is what I explained to my little sister yesterday when she got in trouble for spilling nail polish all over and basically ripping her nails off (don't worry it's not as gruesome as you may think).
It's true.
So I just don't know what I'm supposed to learn from this, or how to fix it, but I ... I'm going to try.
Danica gave me cards for my birthday with things about me. Currently I'm wondering if any of them are true. Yesterday I decided for kicks and giggles that I'd flip it open to look at one.
This is what it said:
YOU'RE UP TO ANY CHALLENGE
We'll see.
No comments:
Post a Comment