I think that my life revolves way too much around things that aren’t happening, and things that aren’t real. People who I made up, and who only exist in my head. Scenarios and stories. Which is all fine and dandy, but eventually I feel like I’m sucked in. Stuck in my head.
And I don’t like the feeling very much.
The only issue is that I don’t really know what else to do when I’m outside of my head. A club? An activity? Like, what?
But I also feel like this all the time, even when I’m relatively sane. I don’t know what it is. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. I just sit around. Observing. Watching other people live their lives while I sort of just..drift through it, you know? And I’m tired, so I don’t really want to force myself to do anything.
I don’t know. I wish that I could be normal.
I feel like I haven’t been normal in a long time.
I want to die.
At this point, I think that I might always want to die. Maybe people learn how to live with it? But I don’t know. All I know is that I want to die, but I’m never going to do it myself because I can’t let go of what I hope might be.
I just wish that it weren’t so fucking difficult.
And no one ever knows what I’m talking about???
No one really seems to know what to do. So maybe there’s something wrong with me that can’t be fixed. Like, my fate was predetermined? So maybe I’m a cautionary tale. Maybe I could’ve done great things and people will point at me when trying to convince kids not to get sad.
Sometimes I wish that I could be part of something. That I could feel important. I really don’t know how to describe it.
Ugh. I’m such an angsty teen. But the whole angsty teen idea is really stupid, because I feel like it takes away someone’s right to actually have feelings. Like, when a female has feelings, she’s sort of denied that right. As are teens.
I don’t know why I feel so anxious. I just know that I do. I just feel like nothing I ever write will be good enough, even if I write it and love it with all of my heart.
I just wonder if it’s even worth it. But I