the strangers up ahead
So I never write in here anymore and I'm not a hundred percent sure why. I got over the fact that no one reads this and that no one truly cares other than a few people in my life. I bought another real journal and have been writing in that when I get down so that I don't have to share my secrets with the world. Everytime I say that I'm going to write I don't and a part of me thinks its because no one will listen or some will think that I'm screaming out for help, when in all actuality I'm not.
Christmas starts in about twenty six hours and I'm not going to lie, I'm not looking forward to it. Every year I put on the happy face and spend time with my family and pretend like everything is ok, but I'm screaming for help in my own secret way. However, no one ever comes and helps. I try to fight the tears and I can't hold them back for one day. This year marks the fifth Christmas without my brother and I try to act like I'm fine and that everything is ok but its not. I wonder if I'll ever be ok and if the pain will ever completely go away. What scares me the most is that I'll lose all my memories of him and I don't want that at all. I wish he was here to crack jokes and be my older brother, but he's not and from September to December of every year I have the worst time. No I'm not crying out for help and I don't want your sympathy, I just want a friend that cares.
I want to go back to the days where I was the happiest girl alive and if people didn't like me then I didn't fucking care. The days where my "friends" were actually around and people don't play fucking games. When boys didn't matter and track was my life. The time where I was happy about the way that I looked and learned to accept the fact that I would never fit in with the pretty and popular girls in school. Where life was simple and I didn't have to struggle to pay my bills and work didn't take over my life. When I felt pain but never inflicted it. When I had more than one or two people I could talk too. When everyone didn't lie to me and people didn't forget my birthday. The time where my family was all around before the fights. Where holidays consisted of more than my family and one aunt. Where I would spend hours outside playing in the snow [which hasn't come yet this year] and taking random pictures with my friends. Where school didn't take up my life and failing classes didn't happen. The good ole days when I was happy.
Blah ... I think Steve is right :/ and it angers me knowing that he's probably right and I'll never be the same. Blah ... I'm going to read and escape to the camp ...
Christmas starts in about twenty six hours and I'm not going to lie, I'm not looking forward to it. Every year I put on the happy face and spend time with my family and pretend like everything is ok, but I'm screaming for help in my own secret way. However, no one ever comes and helps. I try to fight the tears and I can't hold them back for one day. This year marks the fifth Christmas without my brother and I try to act like I'm fine and that everything is ok but its not. I wonder if I'll ever be ok and if the pain will ever completely go away. What scares me the most is that I'll lose all my memories of him and I don't want that at all. I wish he was here to crack jokes and be my older brother, but he's not and from September to December of every year I have the worst time. No I'm not crying out for help and I don't want your sympathy, I just want a friend that cares.
I want to go back to the days where I was the happiest girl alive and if people didn't like me then I didn't fucking care. The days where my "friends" were actually around and people don't play fucking games. When boys didn't matter and track was my life. The time where I was happy about the way that I looked and learned to accept the fact that I would never fit in with the pretty and popular girls in school. Where life was simple and I didn't have to struggle to pay my bills and work didn't take over my life. When I felt pain but never inflicted it. When I had more than one or two people I could talk too. When everyone didn't lie to me and people didn't forget my birthday. The time where my family was all around before the fights. Where holidays consisted of more than my family and one aunt. Where I would spend hours outside playing in the snow [which hasn't come yet this year] and taking random pictures with my friends. Where school didn't take up my life and failing classes didn't happen. The good ole days when I was happy.
Blah ... I think Steve is right :/ and it angers me knowing that he's probably right and I'll never be the same. Blah ... I'm going to read and escape to the camp ...