17.6.14

The truth is out.
And I already knew it.
Nikki said yesterday that I was obsessed about boarding school
in front of everyone.
And that may be true,
but I just feel like I am weird.
I am too weird.
And my stories are too weird.
And they're uncomfortable.
And no one wants to know any of these things.
And I am alone with everything I hold.
And I don't work in this world.
I didn't work in board school.
I don't work here.
I don't know what to do with myself.
I'm too weird in either direction.
And I don't want to go to therapy.
I don't need any advice on this.
It happened.
That's all. 
I just have to stop talking about it.
I don't think that I should tell people about myself anymore.
I don't know what to talk about then.
I guess things that are in the present.
Like oh I did this today.
Rather than something bad happened five years ago.
I feel really alone.
And like I'm never going to be able to speak freely without worrying about being too odd.
I don't know what else to say other than I just feel alone.
And alone.
And alone and alone.
And Eliza is so obsessed with boys that she gets weird in social situations and is mean to me.
And she is also becoming selfish.
I tried talking to her last night about how I felt.
And she just stopped responding.
But sends me funny cat photos today.
As if I'm going to care about that
when you won't care about something more meaningful that your ex boyfriends cat.
I can't call anyone to cry to.
I really am alone.
I'm alone here.
In this whole entire world.
I have to hold all of this myself.
I guess that's what all people have to do.
And I guess that's why everyone seems more normal.
Because they don't talk about the bad things.
And I guess that might be why I am so fuck.ed up 
And why everyone thinks I'm so intense.
And crazy.
I don't know.
At least I'm crying.
That's a big step.
But.
I feel so alone when I cry.
I wish that I could.
Not be so alone.
I know this is repetitive.
But I don't know.
That is what I am thinking.
I can't believe it.
That I'm just never going to work.
I'm never going to become re established back into the world.
This is why.
I'm never in a relationship.
Because I'm simply too odd.
It's weird to feel this way when you don't hate yourself.
I feel alone in loving myself.
I also feel like my friends al. talk about each other.
I guess that I'm a part of that.
But I feel like people complain about how fucked up my life was.
They complain that I talk about it.
I bet I'm just embarrassing myself.
I bet that I just make myself look like a fool all of the time.
I should be more reserved.
And more shy.
I'm too open and wide and obvious.
And everyone knows everything about me.
I'm not secretive.
And what you see is what I am.
But maybe I should hide myself.
And people would be more comfortable around me.
And someone will fall in love with this normal and beautiful girl.
And they will never know.
They will never know the truth.
And I guess they will be loving someone else when they love me.
Someone that I pretend to be.
But maybe it will be nice.
Because I won't feel so lonely; I will be loved.
Or I guess that's foolish.
I will still be lonely because they won't be loving me.
Well, I am fucked.
I am fucked with this diseased brain of mine.
Maybe it's true what they said.
Maybe I am just.
I don't know I'm trying to think of what they've said about me
that is true, but none of it is true.
I'm also frustrated because why can't I just talk about it, huh.
Why can't I.
Why is it so weird.
Who cares, it's the truth.
Why would I hide the truth.
Life isn't clean and perfect, so I'm not going to pretend it is.
And if you're uncomfortable, 
maybe you should be
because that whole time in my life was uncomfortable.
And I'll get over it.
Just let me talk about it.
I wasn't allowed to talk about it for so long.
So just let me say it.
Just let me acknowledge it.
And I just say things because memories come back as life relates itself to them.
I guess I could just write them down.
In a sketch book.
So I'm still remembering but not telling people.
Okay.
I guess I'll do that.

I cried.
So that is good.
I feel better.

Maybe I talk because I just want it resolved.
I just want someone to say they're sorry.
So many people did so many things.
And no one is sorry.
And I don't feel like I'm a bad person.
I did a lot of bad things.
But they were to no one other than myself.
But just so many people.
Saw something in me.
In which I deserve a lot of pain and punishment.

Maybe when I can actually escape the institutions in my dreams,
this can be over.


No comments:

Post a Comment