What the hell is wrong with me...
I must say, school it really becoming more of a cause of depression rather than a destraction from it. It's just...so much more boring than any other school year I've had in public schools.
Recently everyone seems to have left 3rd shift and is suddenly in second, or just doesn't come down for lunch at all. We used to have tons of fun in lunch, singing random songs, quoting flash cartoons and the like. But now, there are only a few of us. Tina has Zach, Heather has Alex, and then there is Crystal, Josh, Izzy, David and I, and this new freshman Jess.
I get lonely a lot more at school now than I ever have before. I can't tell if it's worse at school or at home.
I find myself writing usless stories in my head from my childhood over and over again. Remembering things. The day Unico was hit by the car, the day my bike got a flat and I was stuck in the house for months until I got a new one, the day I found Unico's body still in a bag in the back yard, weeks after death. The day I went on the paper rout with the kids down the street on my roller blades and a total stranger yelled at me for not wearing a helmet and wanted to call my mother to yell ay her as well. I'm remembering all the bad things. Things I'd rather forget, I remember in clear detail. The things I want to remember, like the smell of the woods behind Montessori, the first day of the big war in the woods, before it got out of hand and people started getting hurt. Things I want to remember have bits and pieces missing. Details lost.
I'm dwelling on odd dreams from the past that terrified me, dreams that I still don't understand. The floating orb, the feeling of walking to the top of the stiars and then hearing a loud, angry wordless screaming and waking up in a cold sweat. The snakes covering everything and me being totally alone no matter where I went and how much I screamed for help. The giant flytrap taking me away from my father and me being devastated, despite the fact that I didn't even live with him back then, nor did I like going to his house.
I'm remembering the times I went to Bobbies. All the times I sat by the door pounding on it and screaming because I wanted to be with my mom. And I remember the times we played Life and I tried to read the card in spanish, the times I would burry marbles in the sand box and try to find them with a paint brush, as if they were the bones of some ancient creature and I were digging them up with care.
I'm remembering the horrible years I spent down the road, living in the hotel room. Walking to McDonalds everyday by myself to get food because my mother wouldn't go and buy food. The cats multiplying slowly, Stephan waking my up constantly through out the night. Never being to school on time. The teachers having to give me their daughters old clothes because I only had 3 pairs of pants and they were never clean.
Then my dad came and took me away and life got better. Now I was just lonely.
I started public school and I found that if I dressed the way I do now, the fake people wouldn't talk to me. The only people that would talk to me would be real. They'd talk to me because they wanted to be my friend, not just because they wanted to be popular with everyone. Eventually I got so used to wearing the baggy pants and dark shirts that I couldn't go back. The old pants were uncomfertable, the old shirts looked wrong with my skin. I dyed my hair and that helped ensure only real people talked to me. It doesn't work as well in high school, there are those that are brave, or stupid, or see through it. But it still helps ensure I don't talk to fakers. I have a few close friends that I love so much, and more friends in the outer circle that I enjoy being with. I lost a long time friend but gained a few more. I found Tasku and got even better, then even worse. I broke off with my mom, and I turned in on myself.
I hide in my books then get depressed when they're over. I fall in love with the characters and wish they were real. I realized this morning that each time I read a new book and fall in love with a new character I break off from Tasku for a few days. I talk to him less and think more about the character than him. I see people hugging in the halls, and it's not him I wish was there with me, but the character again. I know that I'm crazy for it, and I beat myself up.
I have no idea why I'm doing this. You people are my friends, but you don't need all this. You don't need to know my problems. I may love you all, and you should tell the ones you love everything, but I hate letting people know how I feel. I just can't do it. I'm trying to get better at it, to push away the people I don't like, to stand up to the people who are morons, to stick up for the friends that get picked on, and to tell the friends I love that I want them to be friends with them forever, but I just can't. I'll stand there and glare at the morons and the people that pick on friends, and sometimes they back down, but most of the time that's not enough and that kills me inside that I can't do more.
Right now my throat is getting tight. I don't feel like crying, or even feel the tears coming. Yet my throat is tight as if I'm fighting back tears. I feel like I'm being silly, stupid even. Dwelling in the bad things from the past that I can't change, and falling in love with people that never could be real. I should be shot for taking the good things in my life for granted like this when there are people out there that have liturally nothing.
I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot.
Recently everyone seems to have left 3rd shift and is suddenly in second, or just doesn't come down for lunch at all. We used to have tons of fun in lunch, singing random songs, quoting flash cartoons and the like. But now, there are only a few of us. Tina has Zach, Heather has Alex, and then there is Crystal, Josh, Izzy, David and I, and this new freshman Jess.
I get lonely a lot more at school now than I ever have before. I can't tell if it's worse at school or at home.
I find myself writing usless stories in my head from my childhood over and over again. Remembering things. The day Unico was hit by the car, the day my bike got a flat and I was stuck in the house for months until I got a new one, the day I found Unico's body still in a bag in the back yard, weeks after death. The day I went on the paper rout with the kids down the street on my roller blades and a total stranger yelled at me for not wearing a helmet and wanted to call my mother to yell ay her as well. I'm remembering all the bad things. Things I'd rather forget, I remember in clear detail. The things I want to remember, like the smell of the woods behind Montessori, the first day of the big war in the woods, before it got out of hand and people started getting hurt. Things I want to remember have bits and pieces missing. Details lost.
I'm dwelling on odd dreams from the past that terrified me, dreams that I still don't understand. The floating orb, the feeling of walking to the top of the stiars and then hearing a loud, angry wordless screaming and waking up in a cold sweat. The snakes covering everything and me being totally alone no matter where I went and how much I screamed for help. The giant flytrap taking me away from my father and me being devastated, despite the fact that I didn't even live with him back then, nor did I like going to his house.
I'm remembering the times I went to Bobbies. All the times I sat by the door pounding on it and screaming because I wanted to be with my mom. And I remember the times we played Life and I tried to read the card in spanish, the times I would burry marbles in the sand box and try to find them with a paint brush, as if they were the bones of some ancient creature and I were digging them up with care.
I'm remembering the horrible years I spent down the road, living in the hotel room. Walking to McDonalds everyday by myself to get food because my mother wouldn't go and buy food. The cats multiplying slowly, Stephan waking my up constantly through out the night. Never being to school on time. The teachers having to give me their daughters old clothes because I only had 3 pairs of pants and they were never clean.
Then my dad came and took me away and life got better. Now I was just lonely.
I started public school and I found that if I dressed the way I do now, the fake people wouldn't talk to me. The only people that would talk to me would be real. They'd talk to me because they wanted to be my friend, not just because they wanted to be popular with everyone. Eventually I got so used to wearing the baggy pants and dark shirts that I couldn't go back. The old pants were uncomfertable, the old shirts looked wrong with my skin. I dyed my hair and that helped ensure only real people talked to me. It doesn't work as well in high school, there are those that are brave, or stupid, or see through it. But it still helps ensure I don't talk to fakers. I have a few close friends that I love so much, and more friends in the outer circle that I enjoy being with. I lost a long time friend but gained a few more. I found Tasku and got even better, then even worse. I broke off with my mom, and I turned in on myself.
I hide in my books then get depressed when they're over. I fall in love with the characters and wish they were real. I realized this morning that each time I read a new book and fall in love with a new character I break off from Tasku for a few days. I talk to him less and think more about the character than him. I see people hugging in the halls, and it's not him I wish was there with me, but the character again. I know that I'm crazy for it, and I beat myself up.
I have no idea why I'm doing this. You people are my friends, but you don't need all this. You don't need to know my problems. I may love you all, and you should tell the ones you love everything, but I hate letting people know how I feel. I just can't do it. I'm trying to get better at it, to push away the people I don't like, to stand up to the people who are morons, to stick up for the friends that get picked on, and to tell the friends I love that I want them to be friends with them forever, but I just can't. I'll stand there and glare at the morons and the people that pick on friends, and sometimes they back down, but most of the time that's not enough and that kills me inside that I can't do more.
Right now my throat is getting tight. I don't feel like crying, or even feel the tears coming. Yet my throat is tight as if I'm fighting back tears. I feel like I'm being silly, stupid even. Dwelling in the bad things from the past that I can't change, and falling in love with people that never could be real. I should be shot for taking the good things in my life for granted like this when there are people out there that have liturally nothing.
I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot.