how's it gonna be when you don't know me anymore?
It's another one of those days, where nothing makes sense. Not a single
person, a single thing, not even myself. The things that used to make
perfect sense [[my family, my home, my life]] completely deteriorated.
I wake up with headaches, so I lay my head back down, and try to make
it go away. I get on my computer, flip through magazines, or even walk
down the halls of my school, and I see all of these girls so
unbelievably gorgeous, and I will never measure up. I'm like bottom
notch. I tear up all the time. Sometimes, I even cry myself to sleep at
night. I just once would like to be good enough for someone, even if
that'd be myself. I like to look at people and think to myself if any
of these people are actually happy... I think it is so weird. I am
fascinated by my own blood. Who wouldn't be? There are other who find
this weird. Like my mom and my dad. But I like it for some reason. I
sit in class, and I think about people that cut themselves, and I used
to cut myself daily, and I think, who doesn't cut themselves? But so
many people think it is disgusting. And what not. But I think it's so
weird that people don't actually do it. I just like the chase. I like
the adrenaline rush. But once I get someone, I don't want them. I am
fickle, I suppose. I guess I'm more of a fling kind of gal, because
guys that actually want a relationship, that kind of gives me the
creeps. But I keep thinking that I want a relationship. I'm not sure
what I want. I am a failure. My dad thinks that I fuck-up too much. He
told me that I have to prove myself capable of doing things. He doesn't
trust me what so ever. That's so irritating. I'm in one of those moods
where I need someone to come and hold me as I cry. I honestly think if
I were in a house by myself, I would be so much better off. I don't
like the other people in my house [[no offense to my brother or my
mum.]] I'm just ready to live somewhere else, or at least on my own.
Sometimes, really late at night, I like to look out of my window, and
to the stars, and make wishes. Sometimes, I wish that someone would
love me. Sometimes, I wish that I would all of a sudden, hit the floor,
and be dead. I used to wish that I could magically be turned into
another version of me. A prettier version. That people actually liked.
But I began to realize, not all things are possible. When I look into
the mirror, I like to look at my eyes. But when I look at my eyes, I
try to figure out something about myself. I never can though. The only
thing I see is someone who is right at the surface, but a lost soul.
What do you see? My mom says she sees someone exciting. I'm really not
that exciting though. I have decided I want to live for the moment.
Live like tomorrow won't be coming. Mum says that everything I do,
there will be a consequence. And there will be a tomorrow. So the
things I do, shouldn't be to drastic. But maybe I need a consequence to
spice up my life. I remember the time the doctor wanted me in the
hospital, to "help" me. She didn't think I was crazy. She thought I was
depressed and that I might kill myself. That was the day my mom found
out I cut myself. Which by then it had been a little over a year. My
mom doesn't like my scars. She always says how much she hopes they fade
away. But what she doesn't know, is that I like them. I think they are
beautiful. So we were in the car, and my mom says, "You wan't to die so
badly, why don't I crash the car now?!" And she started speeding up.
And I just had my head in my hands, crying. Not because I didn't really
want to die. But because how much I hurt my mom. I hate hurting my mom.
My mom is the only person that will ever love me. I think. And I'm
pretty sure that I will always love my mom. I convinced the lady in the
ER that I wasn't pyscho, and I wouldn't kill myself. So I didn't have
to stay at the hospital. The nurse made fun of me. And I wanted to
punch her in the face. My dad wants to get rid of my dog Sampson. This
is the first dog we have ever kept. And I really like Sampson. He lays
with me when I am sick. He nudges my head when I am sad. He's the
nicest dog in the world. I admit though, he is a spaz. But I love him.
He's spaz-tastic. There are four more days left of school. And then I
am done. Then, three more years after that. I can't wait to be out of
school. I fucking hate Mr. Brown, and all the other assholes of
Linganore High School. Lately, I have been so lonely. Even when I have
company, like when I am hanging out around my so called "friends."
Sometimes, I'm not sure if they even like me. And do I even like them?
I need to meet new people. That'd be nice. I'm so sick of everyone. I'm
sick of the same faces. And the same places. The same routine every
day. I used to make plans to run away. I never did though. I've
probably written a total of 3 runaway notes, and maybe...2 suicide
notes. But I trashed them all, because none of them sounded right. I
have a lot of junk in my room. I don't like it. It's almost kind of
cluttered. I think I am going to stop blabbing on about everything now.