(no subject)
I'm sad today, and feeling more than a little crazy. Not in a "whoo hoo! Look how wild and exciting I am!", but in a quiet, unsettling way. I had a dream that a bunch of people were asked to take a tour of this estate, and their personal journey would be analysed and from that researchers could tell if they needed help of any sort. I participated and this aging woman in a white coat, with short black hair and a clip-board told me I needed to see a psychiatrist.
I wanted to tell Jenn this, but I was worried she'd agree with the woman in the dream.
I wish that there was an equal amount of people who were interested in what I had to say as there are people that I find interesting. The imbalance is driving me nuts. I start conversations that wither and die because the person wishes I'd just bugger off, and I wait with bated breath for the next thing they say. It's horrible because I'm fascinated by them, with everything they want to tell me, and I hardly make a blink on the radar. This tentative recovery I was making towards sanity has been set back by this revelation.
I can't remember if I mentioned how depressed and inferior I was feeling in the last few weeks of school. I know I wrote one line posts saying how I loved Death Cab and how I was feeling low, but I doubt it really captured the feeling I had. My experiences with boys mixed with my feelings for Tom (and how inferior I felt) and the worry, lack of sleep, lack of eating, and half a dozen hastily completed assessments. I hated everything about myself and everything that was connected to who I am. My views and opinions about myself were contradicted by people I loved, and I couldn't cope. I have an A4 page full of reasons why I am the most insignificant person on the planet and it's stuck to my wall so I can remind myself that's what people think of me, so I don't have to get my hopes up.
Oh, self-hatred. My old friend.
I wanted to tell Jenn this, but I was worried she'd agree with the woman in the dream.
I wish that there was an equal amount of people who were interested in what I had to say as there are people that I find interesting. The imbalance is driving me nuts. I start conversations that wither and die because the person wishes I'd just bugger off, and I wait with bated breath for the next thing they say. It's horrible because I'm fascinated by them, with everything they want to tell me, and I hardly make a blink on the radar. This tentative recovery I was making towards sanity has been set back by this revelation.
I can't remember if I mentioned how depressed and inferior I was feeling in the last few weeks of school. I know I wrote one line posts saying how I loved Death Cab and how I was feeling low, but I doubt it really captured the feeling I had. My experiences with boys mixed with my feelings for Tom (and how inferior I felt) and the worry, lack of sleep, lack of eating, and half a dozen hastily completed assessments. I hated everything about myself and everything that was connected to who I am. My views and opinions about myself were contradicted by people I loved, and I couldn't cope. I have an A4 page full of reasons why I am the most insignificant person on the planet and it's stuck to my wall so I can remind myself that's what people think of me, so I don't have to get my hopes up.
Oh, self-hatred. My old friend.