and it feels like I'm seventeen again...
Sometimes I get so bored that it brings me to tears. I hate feeling like this and I wish that people didn't have to look at me when my eyes are crying. That's all it is; it's not my brain that's making me cry, only my stupid eyes.
I feel really lonely too, and it's bugging me now. I feel like an outsider in my own town sometimes, like I don't have any "real" friends. My only real friend is 300 miles away. Bit difficult if I need to see her every now and then. I need a good chat to somebody, but everyone has their own troubles.
My life is crap, and I've made it that way, I admit. I miss him still, still think about him, even after all the ridiculously awful things he did. He was the only person to make me happy, not just as in a smile, but in myself.
After all you did, all you said, all you lied about, I can't help but still have feelings for you! I sound so stupid and pathetic, talking to a computer about someone I broke up with, like, a year ago. I just long for one more day, that's all I ask, when I can be happy and smile and laugh. The ones which are REAL. Not just a pretence.
I wake up every morning to the same old face, same old body, and I hate it. I hate me. ME ME ME. I don't want to be me anymore. I want to be someone who can talk to anyone without having a panic attack when I run out of things to say. I want to be able to go into a crowded pub and go "HIIIIIIIII" to everyone there. I put on this face that doesn't let people see the real "me". I don't think I am real anymore. I'm a cardboard cut-out of someone who used to be happy about 18 months ago.
I look at all these people that have the confidence to be someone they're not. I'm nothing. I can't strum up a conversation with someone on a bus for more than 30 seconds. I hate going anywhere that I don't know, on my own; I get panicky and get hot under the collar. I hate being me. It's hard to explain really. I'm trying to pour out my emotions into one page, and it's impossible because I can't find the right words. It's like, my brother. He can talk to anyone and it wouldn't phase him. I get tongue tied and nervous about talking to someone I know quite well. It's the same with guys. I really like someone, they talk to me, and I act like a complete and utter fart. I swear more than usual, I become hyper, and all because I like them. You'd think I'd be more reserved if someone I liked was talking to me. But no, I have to act like an arse-hole and make them look at me like I'm an alien.
I feel fat all the time, I feel ugly, I feel like a nothing. I've been looking through old photographs today with Dad, and it'so sad that all those days, those happier times are now 10 years gone. I want to be 10 again, the days where I had no worries, no heartache, no self consciousness.
The dietician asked me the other day when I started to hate myself...If I knew that I'd be rich, and all these "problems" would be solved. All the questions she asked me, like the Spanish Inquesition, I had to really try hard to think back and think "what made me become the person I am today?" Looking through the eyes of a 10 year old fixed in the past, I don't know. It's impossible to believe that the blonde haired, chubby 13 year old that was once me, has become what I am. It's pure madness, and I hate it.
Times like this, when I start mulling over things that I shouldn't be thinking about, only become a problem when I let it. I shouldn't be thinking like this. But, as usual, my brain and mind tell me otherwise. I feel like an outcast. Point blank. It's not like I can go round someone's house down here and talk about "the old days". When I was down Kira's, it was great, 'coz we talked about people we were in school with, giggled about the stupid things we got up to when we were 11. Down here, I can't literally do that. And it makes me feel left out. Everyone that I'm friends with have known their friends since they were little. They talk about silly things, like the games they used to play, the boys they first started fancying. It's hard to talk like that over the phone to someone you've known your whole life; it's more personal in person.
But there we are, life goes on. Haha look at me, I've written an essay! Miss Elias would be proud lol.
Seriously though, people think they've had it hard, I haven't had it hard. People in India have it tough. We only moan about things because our lives aren't interesting enough.
Point taken, Emma. Shut up.