(no subject)
I spent an entire hour talking to myself, and I feel so much better.
At 9:46 I had brilliance in my bones. Right now, I am only figuring out what I'd really like to say.
I should be studying for my midterms, or reading about ancient Rome, but all I can think about is the lack of appreciation in my life.
I could write awe-inspiring verses about how I am a spoiled brat and need to be more thankful for what it is that I've got, but I know I won't be in the end unless I really feel it.
In fact, I won't ever learn to appreciate things until my house burns down, yet I want to be appreciated.
I don't care about the fact that I throw 300$ jeans on a dirty, wet floor, but I do care about the fact that I have a dad who I don't even know, let alone speak to regularly. And I only care because he isn't there; if he were to re-enter my life tomorrow, I'd thank god, and ten minutes later ask him to buy me a new lap top.
Some people's dads are dead.
Maybe someday my boyfriend will appreciate the little things I do to put a smile on his face. I don't think he ever does.
And maybe someday I will appreciate the lengths my tired mother goes to just because she wants me to feel secure.
In this day and age, there is no such thing as security
It's as if we're TAUGHT to feel inadequate and be judgemental.
Tonight, I cried because I feel as if I am overweight.
Last year I tried to kill myself.
Doesn't get more selfish than that, and not once did it cross my mind that there are people out there that cannot walk due to their weight and the big plastic tube in my throat let me live a little longer.
All I'd been thinking about up to this minute was what I didn't have, or what I didn't look like and so on.
And I hate myself because I don't care.
This is what it looks like when Emily Cloutier is terrified.
At 9:46 I had brilliance in my bones. Right now, I am only figuring out what I'd really like to say.
I should be studying for my midterms, or reading about ancient Rome, but all I can think about is the lack of appreciation in my life.
I could write awe-inspiring verses about how I am a spoiled brat and need to be more thankful for what it is that I've got, but I know I won't be in the end unless I really feel it.
In fact, I won't ever learn to appreciate things until my house burns down, yet I want to be appreciated.
I don't care about the fact that I throw 300$ jeans on a dirty, wet floor, but I do care about the fact that I have a dad who I don't even know, let alone speak to regularly. And I only care because he isn't there; if he were to re-enter my life tomorrow, I'd thank god, and ten minutes later ask him to buy me a new lap top.
Some people's dads are dead.
Maybe someday my boyfriend will appreciate the little things I do to put a smile on his face. I don't think he ever does.
And maybe someday I will appreciate the lengths my tired mother goes to just because she wants me to feel secure.
In this day and age, there is no such thing as security
It's as if we're TAUGHT to feel inadequate and be judgemental.
Tonight, I cried because I feel as if I am overweight.
Last year I tried to kill myself.
Doesn't get more selfish than that, and not once did it cross my mind that there are people out there that cannot walk due to their weight and the big plastic tube in my throat let me live a little longer.
All I'd been thinking about up to this minute was what I didn't have, or what I didn't look like and so on.
And I hate myself because I don't care.
This is what it looks like when Emily Cloutier is terrified.