I was supposed to be having the time of my life

             I've had the realization that I long for shitty relationships. I have been so used to being hurt and used by people that I guess that I expect it. I long for a roller-coaster of love and heartbreak, there's a part of me that feels comfort in being hurt by a boy who only cares for himself. The worst part is that I feel the need to fix someone, I can feel the bruised boys hurting and I want to patch them up and show them what love is.      

                        But whenever something good is staring me the face, a nice boy who wants to take care of me, I can't help but turn away. I long for the ones that seem distant and lonely, the ones I know will hurt me and tear every part of me apart. I want to love someone who will be good for me, and maybe one day I will. I want to let myself love someone who won't hurt me, but every time, I go for the gators with the razor sharp teeth. The ones who will rip me limb from limb and leave me for dead. But, I long to fix those monsters, even if they can never be fixed.

  “You are damaged and broken and unhinged.      But so are shooting stars and comets.”

“The same thing happened over and over: I would catch sight of some flawless man in the distance, but as soon as he moved closer I immediately saw he wouldn’t do at all.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Dear Friend, I'm sorry I haven't written in awhile, but I've been trying hard to not be a loser.

     I'm turning 16 soon. This is supposed to be the happiest moments if my life, I'm supposed to live that teenage dream. But in reality, I'm living my own personal hell. I love my friends and my family, but I'm the problem. My own brain is the issue. I can't help but feel dissatisfied
with my own person, like a part of me has forever been missing. I feel as if I'm watching my own movie. One where I wish instead I was the protagonist, I was the damsel to be saved, because I feel like I need to be saved.

    But maybe when I'm 16, I'll feel better. I'll maybe finally feel like I can handle things, maybe the coming months will make me really feel like the main protagonist.  

                                                    I've noticed I've blamed myself for everyone else's bad mood, I feel automatically I did something wrong. I know I didn't but I can't help but worry. 

He loves my heart shaped sunglasses

     People don't like me, and I care too much. 

                                                                                              I think I'm not liked for good reason, I can't pronounce words, my voice is light and shrill, I talk too much, I walk weird and even more I can't list. So I think it's understandable really, I get why people don't like me.I just want to hop on a bus and disappear from all my problems, maybe then when I change my name and move somewhere far away, I'll be adored by everyone. I'll take the next bus to a foggy town, My name will be Pearl and I'll work at a perfume counter. I think then maybe, the people who hate me now will forget about me. I just want them to leave me alone.

“The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn't thought about it.”

“I didn't know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of the throat and I'd cry for a week.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

I was a young girl, a virgin, and therefore men denied me rationality just as they denied it to all those who were not exactly like themselves, in all their unreason.

 I guess I've never been too good at socializing. But, being in school again reminds me that my social skills are poor. I worry too much, I know I do.

 

       I worry about losing friends, I worry about people who don't like me, I worry about grades, I worry if my teachers even tolerate me, I worry if my art is even worth looking at, I worry if I'm in love with my own friends.

I wonder sometimes if I'm good enough to have nice things. I wonder why people are even still friends with someone as annoying as me. Do I even deserve the life I live, what good have I even done?

I sound ridiculous, I know I do.

Look at me, I'm a depressed teenager who is too wrapped up in their own mind. This is a small part of life, and I know eventually it'll all be different. I know one day I won't resent my parents or I won't even wonder if my friends even value me. Someday, I'll look at all of this and think I'm real stupid. Everyone tells me my feelings are valid, but I feel I just sound stupid.

            I guess all I want is to be happy in some form, I want to be free of my worries and depression. I want to live in a lavender feild, my only thoughts being the bees and the smell of spring. 

                                                                                                    But that's just a daydream

The killer awoke before dawn
He put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall
He went into the room where his sister lived, and then he
Paid a visit to his brother, and then he
He walked on down the hall, and
And he came to a door
And he looked inside
"Father?" "Yes, son?" "I want to kill you"
"Mother? I want to..."

 

“I feel like I know her but sometimes my arms bend back.”

Last night I dreamt that somebody loved me

 

    I really hate my anxiety, I can function for two seconds without feeling intense guilt. I feel sick to my stomach, like something in my throat wishes to be free. I feel as if a monster is trying to claw it's way out of my skin. I am a hideous beast and I fear that I am no longer able to hold it all in. 

                            I know, I sound pretentious and emo, but I can't think of anyway to describe the feelings I feel. Everything in my life can be perfect, but somehow, I still end up distant by the end of the day. I am an observer, I am an alien wishing for another to find me. Maybe one day, but for now, I'll keep dreaming. 

                                                Living in the clouds isnt so bad, it's an escape from my own mind.

 

     

“I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire for something beyond the daily life.”

― Virginia Woolf

And now I know how Joan of Arc felt

 

“When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indued
Unto that element: but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death."

“I shall be dumped where the weed decays, And the rest is rust and stardust”