New to this whole thing...
Well so I started one of these because everyone has one and no one allows comments for non-friends. It's my kind-of school journal. We'll see. For now, there's a long... long... long entry that was a paper I wrote for A.W.2 that I really like. Yep. Like I said, really long. I usually don't have long entries. But this time, my journal was lonely because its new. K.
Journal 1
Why do we hate ourselves?
Why do unachievable goals stand as obstacles on our road to happiness?
Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Youth with razors in wrong places, drawing crimson confidence, a crimson purpose, any purpose is better than none. i held razors in the wrong places. i cried those red tears. Lasting scars that wait for me, call to me.
Cut.
Slash.
Magazines boast unattainable figures, promote starvation as a route to happiness. Anna Nicole, campaigning to be envied…envied for a cocaine addiction. In the end, it’s the weight off that counts. Cocaine is ok. Weight is not. Do they not see the weight of their words?
Sitting silently, waiting for breath to stop, it never does. Why can’t i be good enough? Why can’t i satisfy him? Or all of them? Always something there to bring me down. Can’t they see me? How can they, when i can’t even see myself?
Am I not pretty enough?
Is my heart too broken?
Do I cry too much?
Am I too outspoken?
Don’t I make you laugh?
Should I try it harder?
Why do you see right through me?
Or is it that they see through me? Look past my eyes into the soul that hides right below the surface. Suffocating under my own false awareness. Deep afflictions that can only rise to the surface to take that crimson breath. To breathe. To live.
It all seems so trivial when its not in that one fleeting moment. Why should i hate myself? Why should i let others control the path i am on? Did i lose all control over what i want to be, and who i want to become? Has everyone lost their goals in the wake of something that is out of their control?
Images of the way we’re supposed to be haunt my memory. Don’t do drugs, don’t self-mutilate, don’t go above 65 on a highway. What they’re really saying is don’t control your life. Let us control it for you. We know you better than you know yourself.
No. You can’t. Because the truth is, we don’t even know ourselves. The self we know we hate because it is imperfect. The self we know we are ashamed of. The self we know we wish we didn’t.
There is only one route to happiness. Why?
Journal 2
Why can we only see one true way of happiness? Why do we let them control us? How did we let this happen?
How could we let this happen? Mixed messages. Even if you’re one thing, you can’t be the other. One way or another, you’re always doing something wrong. i’m always doing something wrong.
Spend all your time waiting,
For that second chance,
For a break that would make it ok,
Theres always some reason to feel not good enough…
And its hard at the end of the day.
I need some distraction,
Oh beautiful release,
Memories seep through my veins.
Let me be
Empty
Oh and weightless and maybe…
I’ll find some peace tonight.
Always waiting for the breath to stop. It never does.
It never stops.
Ungrateful for life, for being. Who am i to say that i hate my life? Who are we to say that? Cancer victims wish they had more time. Grandma wanted two more years. She got two more days. And why, why did she get taken away? The good die young, the bad live forever. 74. i needed her longer. We all did. Why hate ourselves? A defense mechanism against the death of loved ones. And our own.
I’m not going to go out and kill myself. That would be too simple. Too tragic. And yet i still question why, exactly, i hate myself. It’s not only me. It’s everyone i know. Everyone claims to hate themselves. There is no mass suicide. Only
Pain. Suffereing. Wondering why we can’t be what we want to be. Why we let everything get in our way.
In the path of our road to happiness there are always obstacles, things we can’t get past. But what would happen if instead of trying to get around the obstacles, we picked them up and moved them out of our way.
What if we jumped over them and never looked back?
Is it possible to be happy with whatever situation life gives you? Can i ever be satisfied with the life i was given? Can i learn to forgive him, forgive everyone. Forgive myself for my own imperfections?
Can I Forgive myself for my life?
Journal 3
Why do we let everyone else control our lives? Why do we leave our Fate up to some being that we cannot see or feel? How do we let ourselves get so wrapped up in what others want of us that we cannot see what we want of ourselves anymore? And who really cares?
I just want to ask a question
Who really cares?
To save a world in despair
There’ll come a time, when the world won’t be singin’
Flowers won’t grow, bells won’t be ringin’.
Who really cares?
Who’s willing to save a world that’s destined to die.
Why can’t we live our lives to the fullest? Why can’t i drop everything and do exactly what my inner desires fantasize? Why can’t i see the seven wonders of the world? Drop everything and run? Move to Italy? Find a safe haven in an outskirt of Rome and forget the mindless minds that follow me wherever i go?
It all leads back to one thing: society. Society is responsible for rotting the minds of youth. Society teaches that it’s the smartest people, the richest people, the prettiest people who have the most successes. Society looks down on a single mother working obscene hours in order to support her children. Society looks down on men and women in trailer parks, working minimum wage jobs that they can’t escape because they couldn’t afford an education. But society also looks down on kids whose parents provide for them, who put them through school, who don’t know what they want to do with their lives because for the first 22 years their parents decided what they wanted instead of them deciding for themselves. College education or get a job and support yourself.
It’s harder than it seems. Complications at every corner, waiting to jump out and create confusion. Obstacles in the road. A fork in the path. One road leads to an undesired outcome but is paved in cement. One road leads to your deepest
Desire.
That is the dirt path with pot holes and tree trunks and obstacles and determination. Where is there a choice?
There is no choice. We have no choice but to accept what society has put in front of us. We accept that we must go to school, get a job doing something for the rest of our lives that barely interests us simply because it’s the only way society has allowed us to see.
See? We hate ourselves because they make us. Because we have no other option. no other discernable option. no other way to be.
Why isn’t there another way? We have to find another way.
Journal 4
Society screaming insecurities. We listen. We can’t blame society for our interpretations. Once upon a time, it was ok to be curvy. Once upon a time, it was ok to be a struggling actor.
Once upon a time, we were happy. What is the age that we realize what our life entails? When do we realize that life is a tragic travesty, that life turns into a harsh reality, crumbling and crippling childhood dreams? When did i let what others thought of me crush my dream?
i stood on stage and lived my dream. Then one day, it stopped. i was paralyzed by fear, by need for acceptance. i was never accepted by my father. Or his family. Or my teachers or my friends. i needed to be accepted by the audience, and that was paralyzing. What if they didn’t accept me?
Our own fears hold us back. Our own fears prevent our dreams from coming true. Isn’t it tragic that we hold ourselves back? No wonder we hate ourselves. We are our own demise.
i wish i could sing like no one was listening. i wish i wasn’t paralyzed by myself. i wish i could get past myself. my insecurities. my shortcomings. my past failures. i wish i could be myself. i wish i had enough confidence to speak my mind. To let people see me for who i am.
Instead, i hide inside myself. i question everything i do, everything i say. Will this sound stupid? Will they hate me if i tell them about my past? Will they accept me if i tell them the truth? That i’m not always happy? That i have problems?
That he abused me? That my own father emotionally scarred me? He says he feels sorry for the man i marry. Perhaps that is why I’m scared of commitment. He called me stupid, worthless, told me i had no real friends. i was 10 years old. i have felt inadequate since. i never feel good enough for my family, i never feel good enough for my teachers, i never feel good enough for friends, and i am scared of being alone with a guy because i am scared i am not good enough. i won’t have anything to say. Why can’t i just say that?
We all have histories. We all have thoughts in the back of our minds that would make anyone shudder. Why are we so scared to talk about these? We let them collect dust, eventually creating a coating over all of our memories. No matter what, they come back. They never leave to begin with.
So tired of that straight line,
And everywhere you turn
There’s vultures and thieves at your back
Storm keeps on twisting
Keep on building the lies
That we make up for all that we lack
It don’t make no difference
Escaping one last time
It’s easier to believe…
We never feel good enough. We never feel accomplished. There is always something there, waiting for us.
Something or someone to tell us why we aren’t good enough. And we hate ourselves for this.
Journal 5
Whether us or them, there’s always reason to feel not good enough. Why can’t we accept ourselves with all of our shortcomings? Why can’t we love ourselves for our imperfections?
Why do we focus on imperfections? i get a C on one paper, and that is where my focus shifts. i am not smart. i got a C. Forget about all the A’s. Why can’t i express myself better? Why can’t i show everything that is going on in my mind all the time? Why am i so scared of myself? So scared that ending everything seems like an option? How is it ever an option? the second largest cause of death among youth.
Suicide.
Our imperfections eat away at our heart.
Oh what a shame, such a bad way to live
All who is to blame, we can’t stop livin’
Live, Live for life
But let live everybody.
Why can’t we live life for life? Who cares? We see imperfections that don’t even exist. Misconstrued appearances of ourselves. We see ourselves as monsters. Why do we care? Why can’t we see life? Why can’t we appreciate the people around us instead of wallowing in our own self-created misery? Why can’t we listen to what others say without analyzing whether our response is smart or witty.
Why do we turn towards ourselves and hurt ourselves in one way or another? Not only cutting. There are so many self-destructive options. Smoking. Medicine addictins. Wantonness. We are not alone. We all hurt ourselves in one way or another. At some point, we all hate ourselves.
Why did i have to say that? Why did i have to do that? It’s all my fault.
i want to give in to my temptations. But i know it is wrong, and that i would be looked down on even after life. So i struggle to breathe. i struggle to find a purpose. i stuggle to stop hating myself. in the end, that’s the one thing i can’t do.
Journal 6
I live I breathe
I let it rain on me
I sleep I wake
I try hard not to break
I crave I love
I've waited long enough
I try as hard as I can
Why do we hate ourselves?
Why do we listen to society?
Why do we not feel adequate?
Why do we deserve to live?
Why would we not deserve to live?
Why take it out on ourselves?
Why let them control us?
Why keep trying? Why put up the fight?
i have to keep fighting. This is what my life will be. And that is ok. i will fight until i can’t fight anymore. i will live my life until my life can’t be lived.
i will try to stop hating myself. i will try to feel ok about where i am and where i am headed. i will try to realize that direction should not and does not matter.
i will come to terms with my body and my soul. i will find a road to happiness, if it means going straight through the obstacles in my path. i will be happy. If live gives me lemons, i will make lemonade.
Most importantly,
I will never stop trying.
Journal 1
Why do we hate ourselves?
Why do unachievable goals stand as obstacles on our road to happiness?
Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Youth with razors in wrong places, drawing crimson confidence, a crimson purpose, any purpose is better than none. i held razors in the wrong places. i cried those red tears. Lasting scars that wait for me, call to me.
Cut.
Slash.
Magazines boast unattainable figures, promote starvation as a route to happiness. Anna Nicole, campaigning to be envied…envied for a cocaine addiction. In the end, it’s the weight off that counts. Cocaine is ok. Weight is not. Do they not see the weight of their words?
Sitting silently, waiting for breath to stop, it never does. Why can’t i be good enough? Why can’t i satisfy him? Or all of them? Always something there to bring me down. Can’t they see me? How can they, when i can’t even see myself?
Am I not pretty enough?
Is my heart too broken?
Do I cry too much?
Am I too outspoken?
Don’t I make you laugh?
Should I try it harder?
Why do you see right through me?
Or is it that they see through me? Look past my eyes into the soul that hides right below the surface. Suffocating under my own false awareness. Deep afflictions that can only rise to the surface to take that crimson breath. To breathe. To live.
It all seems so trivial when its not in that one fleeting moment. Why should i hate myself? Why should i let others control the path i am on? Did i lose all control over what i want to be, and who i want to become? Has everyone lost their goals in the wake of something that is out of their control?
Images of the way we’re supposed to be haunt my memory. Don’t do drugs, don’t self-mutilate, don’t go above 65 on a highway. What they’re really saying is don’t control your life. Let us control it for you. We know you better than you know yourself.
No. You can’t. Because the truth is, we don’t even know ourselves. The self we know we hate because it is imperfect. The self we know we are ashamed of. The self we know we wish we didn’t.
There is only one route to happiness. Why?
Journal 2
Why can we only see one true way of happiness? Why do we let them control us? How did we let this happen?
How could we let this happen? Mixed messages. Even if you’re one thing, you can’t be the other. One way or another, you’re always doing something wrong. i’m always doing something wrong.
Spend all your time waiting,
For that second chance,
For a break that would make it ok,
Theres always some reason to feel not good enough…
And its hard at the end of the day.
I need some distraction,
Oh beautiful release,
Memories seep through my veins.
Let me be
Empty
Oh and weightless and maybe…
I’ll find some peace tonight.
Always waiting for the breath to stop. It never does.
It never stops.
Ungrateful for life, for being. Who am i to say that i hate my life? Who are we to say that? Cancer victims wish they had more time. Grandma wanted two more years. She got two more days. And why, why did she get taken away? The good die young, the bad live forever. 74. i needed her longer. We all did. Why hate ourselves? A defense mechanism against the death of loved ones. And our own.
I’m not going to go out and kill myself. That would be too simple. Too tragic. And yet i still question why, exactly, i hate myself. It’s not only me. It’s everyone i know. Everyone claims to hate themselves. There is no mass suicide. Only
Pain. Suffereing. Wondering why we can’t be what we want to be. Why we let everything get in our way.
In the path of our road to happiness there are always obstacles, things we can’t get past. But what would happen if instead of trying to get around the obstacles, we picked them up and moved them out of our way.
What if we jumped over them and never looked back?
Is it possible to be happy with whatever situation life gives you? Can i ever be satisfied with the life i was given? Can i learn to forgive him, forgive everyone. Forgive myself for my own imperfections?
Can I Forgive myself for my life?
Journal 3
Why do we let everyone else control our lives? Why do we leave our Fate up to some being that we cannot see or feel? How do we let ourselves get so wrapped up in what others want of us that we cannot see what we want of ourselves anymore? And who really cares?
I just want to ask a question
Who really cares?
To save a world in despair
There’ll come a time, when the world won’t be singin’
Flowers won’t grow, bells won’t be ringin’.
Who really cares?
Who’s willing to save a world that’s destined to die.
Why can’t we live our lives to the fullest? Why can’t i drop everything and do exactly what my inner desires fantasize? Why can’t i see the seven wonders of the world? Drop everything and run? Move to Italy? Find a safe haven in an outskirt of Rome and forget the mindless minds that follow me wherever i go?
It all leads back to one thing: society. Society is responsible for rotting the minds of youth. Society teaches that it’s the smartest people, the richest people, the prettiest people who have the most successes. Society looks down on a single mother working obscene hours in order to support her children. Society looks down on men and women in trailer parks, working minimum wage jobs that they can’t escape because they couldn’t afford an education. But society also looks down on kids whose parents provide for them, who put them through school, who don’t know what they want to do with their lives because for the first 22 years their parents decided what they wanted instead of them deciding for themselves. College education or get a job and support yourself.
It’s harder than it seems. Complications at every corner, waiting to jump out and create confusion. Obstacles in the road. A fork in the path. One road leads to an undesired outcome but is paved in cement. One road leads to your deepest
Desire.
That is the dirt path with pot holes and tree trunks and obstacles and determination. Where is there a choice?
There is no choice. We have no choice but to accept what society has put in front of us. We accept that we must go to school, get a job doing something for the rest of our lives that barely interests us simply because it’s the only way society has allowed us to see.
See? We hate ourselves because they make us. Because we have no other option. no other discernable option. no other way to be.
Why isn’t there another way? We have to find another way.
Journal 4
Society screaming insecurities. We listen. We can’t blame society for our interpretations. Once upon a time, it was ok to be curvy. Once upon a time, it was ok to be a struggling actor.
Once upon a time, we were happy. What is the age that we realize what our life entails? When do we realize that life is a tragic travesty, that life turns into a harsh reality, crumbling and crippling childhood dreams? When did i let what others thought of me crush my dream?
i stood on stage and lived my dream. Then one day, it stopped. i was paralyzed by fear, by need for acceptance. i was never accepted by my father. Or his family. Or my teachers or my friends. i needed to be accepted by the audience, and that was paralyzing. What if they didn’t accept me?
Our own fears hold us back. Our own fears prevent our dreams from coming true. Isn’t it tragic that we hold ourselves back? No wonder we hate ourselves. We are our own demise.
i wish i could sing like no one was listening. i wish i wasn’t paralyzed by myself. i wish i could get past myself. my insecurities. my shortcomings. my past failures. i wish i could be myself. i wish i had enough confidence to speak my mind. To let people see me for who i am.
Instead, i hide inside myself. i question everything i do, everything i say. Will this sound stupid? Will they hate me if i tell them about my past? Will they accept me if i tell them the truth? That i’m not always happy? That i have problems?
That he abused me? That my own father emotionally scarred me? He says he feels sorry for the man i marry. Perhaps that is why I’m scared of commitment. He called me stupid, worthless, told me i had no real friends. i was 10 years old. i have felt inadequate since. i never feel good enough for my family, i never feel good enough for my teachers, i never feel good enough for friends, and i am scared of being alone with a guy because i am scared i am not good enough. i won’t have anything to say. Why can’t i just say that?
We all have histories. We all have thoughts in the back of our minds that would make anyone shudder. Why are we so scared to talk about these? We let them collect dust, eventually creating a coating over all of our memories. No matter what, they come back. They never leave to begin with.
So tired of that straight line,
And everywhere you turn
There’s vultures and thieves at your back
Storm keeps on twisting
Keep on building the lies
That we make up for all that we lack
It don’t make no difference
Escaping one last time
It’s easier to believe…
We never feel good enough. We never feel accomplished. There is always something there, waiting for us.
Something or someone to tell us why we aren’t good enough. And we hate ourselves for this.
Journal 5
Whether us or them, there’s always reason to feel not good enough. Why can’t we accept ourselves with all of our shortcomings? Why can’t we love ourselves for our imperfections?
Why do we focus on imperfections? i get a C on one paper, and that is where my focus shifts. i am not smart. i got a C. Forget about all the A’s. Why can’t i express myself better? Why can’t i show everything that is going on in my mind all the time? Why am i so scared of myself? So scared that ending everything seems like an option? How is it ever an option? the second largest cause of death among youth.
Suicide.
Our imperfections eat away at our heart.
Oh what a shame, such a bad way to live
All who is to blame, we can’t stop livin’
Live, Live for life
But let live everybody.
Why can’t we live life for life? Who cares? We see imperfections that don’t even exist. Misconstrued appearances of ourselves. We see ourselves as monsters. Why do we care? Why can’t we see life? Why can’t we appreciate the people around us instead of wallowing in our own self-created misery? Why can’t we listen to what others say without analyzing whether our response is smart or witty.
Why do we turn towards ourselves and hurt ourselves in one way or another? Not only cutting. There are so many self-destructive options. Smoking. Medicine addictins. Wantonness. We are not alone. We all hurt ourselves in one way or another. At some point, we all hate ourselves.
Why did i have to say that? Why did i have to do that? It’s all my fault.
i want to give in to my temptations. But i know it is wrong, and that i would be looked down on even after life. So i struggle to breathe. i struggle to find a purpose. i stuggle to stop hating myself. in the end, that’s the one thing i can’t do.
Journal 6
I live I breathe
I let it rain on me
I sleep I wake
I try hard not to break
I crave I love
I've waited long enough
I try as hard as I can
Why do we hate ourselves?
Why do we listen to society?
Why do we not feel adequate?
Why do we deserve to live?
Why would we not deserve to live?
Why take it out on ourselves?
Why let them control us?
Why keep trying? Why put up the fight?
i have to keep fighting. This is what my life will be. And that is ok. i will fight until i can’t fight anymore. i will live my life until my life can’t be lived.
i will try to stop hating myself. i will try to feel ok about where i am and where i am headed. i will try to realize that direction should not and does not matter.
i will come to terms with my body and my soul. i will find a road to happiness, if it means going straight through the obstacles in my path. i will be happy. If live gives me lemons, i will make lemonade.
Most importantly,
I will never stop trying.