(no subject)
No one ever uses this thing anymore, none of my friends have posted in at least a month, so maybe it's safe for me to ramble my own pathetic musings. I finally let on a little too much...my aunt thinks I'm going crazy, or that I have some terrible illness. She asked me how I was doing, I let my guard down for a split second and that was all, it was nothing more than a glint of weakness in the eyes, a faltering of the lips, and a quick lie and false laugh to try to cover it up, but she's wiser than I give her credit for. She knows something's wrong. I complained of aching muscles and exhaustion, she says I need to see a doctor. I am sick of being miserable all the time. Maybe I should see a doctor. There's nothing physically wrong with me, even I know that, but maybe he can give me a magic little pill. This medicine I've been using just isn't working. I can't afford it, anyway. I feel rejected by the whole world, even though It's me that's doing the rejecting, I hate them for going on without me while I live this life in shadow. No one understands the paralysis of depression, the vice grip of dispair, the piercing shriek of pain in your back, your head, your stomache, your heart. The utter loneliness, so cold and complete that this world exists only in you, and know one will ever be inside it. They make excuses for you, she's just lazy, or stubborn, or in a bad mood. A bad mood that's lasted for months. I can't go on being everyone's problem, I'm a burden to those that I love, I can suck the life right out of the room. So I sit alone for hours, for days, and try to not count the days of my life passing by with infinite slowness. And dwell on the root of such exquisite unhappiness, and never speak it aloud.