A little something depressing for you.
I need to talk, and it's going to be really late in coming and rather depressing. If you don't want to see or hear it, don't read it.
Last school year, after March, I cried so much I didn't know if I'd ever be able to cry again. And I hated feeling so weak and so confused.
Last summer, I couldn't cry. It was the day after I had started taking sleeping pills and it was all a haze. Past the initial news, I never heard anything else and I never asked anything else.
Late last summer, I cared for a dying woman. It was the first time I was around someone I KNEW was going to die. She prayed for a miracle, I prayed for a painless death. Neither of us won. I still couldn't cry. I watched my friend die and I didn't cry.
My parents, needless to say, have been concerned. The last funeral I went to, I was in early middle school. I knew eleven people that had died that year.
I had two more great-aunts die last year.
It's been a lot of death. A lot of death that I've ignored and put off and been harsh about.
I feel the need to say, it's not that I didn't care. I just don't know how to cope anymore.
Today, I mourn. I was teaching my kindergarten class when I found out one of my student's friend's dad killed his whole family last week. And that brought back so many memories, and I'm so mad at humanity and it's lack of comprehension. Enough people die of cancer and car wrecks and diseases that we don't need to kill each other. I'm so angry and pouring out tears I don't know how to deal with this anymore. I'm so upset that people can just snap. I don't want to bring kids into this world. I don't want to be in this world. I know I am, and I have to keep going at it, but I am just so tired of trying to process guns and cars and tumors that I'm just... tired.
I can't do it.
So I'm sorry when I can't cry and I don't show up at a funeral. I'm just too disappointed in myself and in people to try to care.
I'm sick of crying.
And I'm sick of people.
And I'm sick of death.
I don't know how to continue to process this.
Last school year, after March, I cried so much I didn't know if I'd ever be able to cry again. And I hated feeling so weak and so confused.
Last summer, I couldn't cry. It was the day after I had started taking sleeping pills and it was all a haze. Past the initial news, I never heard anything else and I never asked anything else.
Late last summer, I cared for a dying woman. It was the first time I was around someone I KNEW was going to die. She prayed for a miracle, I prayed for a painless death. Neither of us won. I still couldn't cry. I watched my friend die and I didn't cry.
My parents, needless to say, have been concerned. The last funeral I went to, I was in early middle school. I knew eleven people that had died that year.
I had two more great-aunts die last year.
It's been a lot of death. A lot of death that I've ignored and put off and been harsh about.
I feel the need to say, it's not that I didn't care. I just don't know how to cope anymore.
Today, I mourn. I was teaching my kindergarten class when I found out one of my student's friend's dad killed his whole family last week. And that brought back so many memories, and I'm so mad at humanity and it's lack of comprehension. Enough people die of cancer and car wrecks and diseases that we don't need to kill each other. I'm so angry and pouring out tears I don't know how to deal with this anymore. I'm so upset that people can just snap. I don't want to bring kids into this world. I don't want to be in this world. I know I am, and I have to keep going at it, but I am just so tired of trying to process guns and cars and tumors that I'm just... tired.
I can't do it.
So I'm sorry when I can't cry and I don't show up at a funeral. I'm just too disappointed in myself and in people to try to care.
I'm sick of crying.
And I'm sick of people.
And I'm sick of death.
I don't know how to continue to process this.