you are a man. you're the manliest person I've ever known and it makes me want to hurt myself. the way you slip into crowds unnoticed makes me want to puke. I wish I was thin effortlessly the way you are effortlessly yourself every day.
A creative drought. My last three drawings look exactly the same. I haven't written anything in days. If someone compliments me now I will explode, and all sorts of bad things will start gushing out.
You make me really happy.
I can imagine how it feels to talk to him. He takes your breath away. He enters a room and fills it with colors and symbols and characters more vibrant than you could ever imagine. And he chooses you. Boring old you, out of everyone there. And he loves you. And he wants to hear your opinions on things. And he laughs at your jokes. You feel like you don't deserve him. You still often feel like you don't deserve anything at all. But yet he's right there next to you, sweet smile, tired eyes. He feels safe falling asleep next to you. Sometimes you love him. Sometimes you hate him so much you want to destroy him. But you never do. You remain in limbo like that, staring at his closed eyes. Until it's over. Until he's found someone else to talk to.
I fall in love with everyone I meet.
In the dark at 2 AM when it's softly raining and Kate Bush is playing I can pretend for one night that I am pretty. That I am wearing a flowing white garment and that someone who loves me is in the room with me and smiles brightly when I look their way.
I'm cruel and hateful sometimes. It scares me. It's like I've gotten good at hiding it most of the time but sometimes it comes out and I get mean. I say mean things to people. I wish my friends were worse people. The people I'm friends with shouldn't be forced to talk to me.
She likes to pop by and say hi. She likes it so much that sometimes she does it when she's already around, laying on the couch or sitting at the kitchen table. She'll get up, and walk back towards the curtains. She stands behind them, pops her face in and goes 'hi!' before quickly pulling the curtains shut again. Her giggle is audible in the hallway where she takes a few steps before popping back in and sitting back down on the couch. She likes watching people's faces, she says. She likes to see how people react to her. When you ask her if she isn't afraid to be dissapointed she shrugs. 'It doesn't matter,' she says. 'At least I know for certain that they're being honest.'
I'm not a person. Not really. I'm an empty body, walking around, pretending to be one of the people. But there's nothing inside of me. Evidently, the day they handed out personalities I must've overslept. I'm annoying, and I'm desperate. All I do is yearn for things. I'm never satisfied, no matter where I end up. I'm rubbish at taking care of others. I'm rubbish at most things. I'm good at others, but I refuse to apply myself, somehow. The voice in me is screaming for me to move, but the body remains silent, resilient. Doesn't move an inch. Never learned how, you see. The sob story works, for now. But one day they'll all be sick of me.
Do you ever love someone so much it makes you want to scream at them? Do you ever love someone so much it makes you want to beg them to understand you, just this once, because if they did, if they bothered- if they even read what you wrote, it could be everything. You're so similar, yet so different at the same time. You can't even reach them properly. But when you do click, it's electric. It makes your knees go weak. When you're together in a room you're drawn towards each other yet the same afternoon you can't even be bothered to send a text back.
It's hard not to talk to people when you really want to. But for me, right now, it's best if I talk to nobody at all. I know it's probably all in my head, that feeling of all of them hating me. They probably don't like me enough to hate me. Have you ever thought about that? You have to think about someone a certain amount to be able to hate them. I don't think anyone thinks about me that often. That's probably a good thing.
It was just a joke. It didn't mean anything. He didn't mean it. He doesn't feel that way about you.
Everything is a bit calmer again. The only noise in this house is the sound of the computer's vents and the sound of my typing. There's something very nice about this calmness. I doubt it'll last, but for now it's nice.
I find myself wondering if the past holds any worth more and more lately. Those hot summer nights we spent together, talking and drawing. the jokes we had, that only we understood. Conversations we had in public only to freak other people out. The times you infuriated me, too. Did any of them mean anything? Was this all worth it? I'm really starting to feel like everything might've been a waste.
Each of our conversations is burdened by the knowledge that you won't be around anymore in a few years. I feel death's gaze upon us every time we laugh together. It scares me. It really scares me. I can't imagine living without you. Maybe that's selfish of me. Maybe you are selfish for dying when it could easily be prevented. I don't know anymore.
I wish to one day be regarded by someone as beautiful, simply because of their fondness for me. Like how I will be sitting in their living room watching TV and they will see the way my chin sticks out and think of it as beautiful because it’s a part of me. I wish for someone to look at me without thinking of things that I would have to change in order to be pretty. I want a simple beauty, based on the way my face scrunches up when I laugh, or how that one annoying lock of hair keeps getting into my eyes. Someone will love it because it is mine. I am not a good-looking person by any stretch of the imagination but maybe beauty is more than skin deep. Maybe someone will see me one day and be happy that I don’t look any different.
Sometimes out of nowhere I get very nervous, so much so that my heart starts pounding in my chest. I don't know why that is. Sometimes things scare me a lot when usually they do not scare me at all. Sometimes I'm just terrified out of nowhere. Of everything around me. Of my friends and family. I don't know why. I don't know how to fix it.
I have nothing going for me. I am not smart, nor am I pretty in any way. I'm not attractive, no part of me is, not even separately from the rest. My brain doesn't work well. put nicely, I'm an idiot. I don't know anything. I don't know how to act in front of other people. I don't even know how to think. Even when I am alone I do not stop failing, proving that it's all real and not just an act to try and get pity. I really am this bad and worthless and stupid. A big dumb body with nothing of value inside of it. some people say that human beings are just brains piloting suits of meat but I have always related to the body more. Brains think, that is their job. I am terrible at thinking. I relate more to the huge, lumbering, clumsy human bodies walking into each other and falling down endlessly. I am the man without a brain. I am good for nothing. Anything would be good for me.
It is terribly hard to purposefully cut yourself off from people you love and enjoy talking to. But sometimes you'll find you need a break regardless of what you feel like you want. Sometimes it can be terribly good to sit silently and not talk to anyone all day. And if you do go back to your friends after that you'll find the conversation flows more sweetly than it did before.
got perscribed (prescribed? how do you spell that) ritalin a few days ago. I have been taking it and honestly I don't know if I notice any difference at all, which is now causing me to feel like the therapist gave me fake medication for some reason. No clue why he would do that, but I keep getting nervous about him thinking that I'm possibly an addict because I don't really oppose trying any medication at all (there's a lot going on in my head, I'm honestly willing to try most things) and... I don't know. I'm just nervous. I don't really know what to do. I guess I should just work on some work stuff.
nobody told me how hard it would be to simply take medication. I just don't do it. I know I have to take it. I remember it at the right times. I just don't do it. I just sit here writing about taking my medication instead of taking the two steps towards my bag needed to retrieve my medication. What the hell is wrong with me? I have no clue if my friends even like me. I sometimes feel like they can't even stand me. But I'm too afraid to cut them off, too. It's weird. I'm weird. They're even weirder.
Do you ever see someone so attractive it makes you want to kill yourself?
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