I guess I'm finally posting on this blog again because I have a lot to say about absolutely nothing again. I mean my posts in the past are painful to read considering I grow as a person every day, and my insecurities drive me to write shitty happenings on my life almost always. But right now I just feel so disappointed in myself. I feel like a useless human being. I don't contribute to my academic career at all, like ever, just because the entire idea of it, is driving me mad. I'm so behind on a lot of school work but I see no point in doing it. It seems all like busy work to me. I go to school almost every day, and skip almost every other, but the fact that I can at all fathom waking up in the morning to go through forced interactions, adds more dread to my already mundane life.

I mean, I guess, I wouldn't call it completely mundane. I actually wouldn't call it that at all. Lots of things are happening in my life now, and it makes it harder for me to hang out with people I don't have much of a connection with in the first place. I've already lost one friend, and for a good reason, I mean to me. I just don't care enough to spend time with people that don't drive my life like others do. I'm not going to sit around someone else's house for an entire evening just to withhold the friendship, and keep it safe. I literally do not have the energy and it's been a recent realization that everyone is really selfish, just as selfish as I am. 

But, while talking to someone, who's name will go unmentioned, they made me realize that I do have a true potential. They made me realize that I don't have to be on meds to be happy, I just have to be surrounded by people that will push me to do the best in my life. And I know my friends aren't leaving but god damn, I don't have to spend all my time with them. I really don't. I need to remind myself that one evening is not going to define an entire relationship (Though, I'd be lying to myself if I didn't say that was possible). 

In other news, this unnamed person I speak of has been making my life feel so incredibly weird. It's really hard to decipher my feelings for this guy because they are so strong in all the weirdest ways. He's also old enough to be my dad, but being with him makes me feel appreciated, and content. Though the whole situation is a lot more fucked up than necessary. I wonder if the day comes where we actually go beyond heavy petting will change my mind about him. But it's not just the sex I feel that keeps me going with him but rather when we touch I am filled with an immense amount of appreciation and, almost love, for this person. I'm not saying I'm in love, god no, but he feels special, too special. I'm afraid to get used but at the same time it's the only thing I want when I'm being careless. I really can't explain the immense feeling I get being around this person. God knows that I never expected us to happen, I never expect anyone to "happen" with me. Last year, losing my virginity to Khalil was completely unexpected but I wanted us to flourish so badly, I wanted him, to want me, so badly. But god he was young, stupid, naive. Khalil was the kind of human being who would come across as open minded but god damn he's not. He can barely handle any emotion that doesn't pertain to himself. I've never met someone so self absorbed and so guilty at the same time. I told him that things between us were fine, because they are I guess, but my sadness has now shifted to a newfound hate for every happy moment he lives. 

It's not like I don't miss that part of my life. It was fulfilling and I loved being in his arms but not as much as the guy I'm, seeing?... now... I can only have deep feelings for those who are more structured than me. I can only have deep feeling for those who think I'm a dream, and are extremely hard to navigate a real relationship with. I strive off of unconventionality, yet it is also something that has me suffering deeply in my worst moments. 

And I hate sudden realizations. I always seem to have them. The entire thought process goes like this: Oh you know, that, that could definitely be a possibility, oh damn. Damn it's real, I'm living it, and it could possibly be true. Fuck, holy fuck it's true. I better get off the bus soon, I'm going to pretend I never made that realization myself. I feel poisoned. I need water.

my friends ex bf just dropped her computer off at my house and im sad for her now , most definitely. Probably because I experienced something similar, except i wasn't broken up with. I actually lost my virginity to someone who didn't love me, but i guess that's better than having them fall out of love with you after having sex. all in all, it still hurts. Actually one of the last things he said to me was that he was thinking about asking me out, even though we'd been on dates before. He moved on within a week, and then eventually to his current girlfriend, whom i see almost every day, and i wonder if she knows anything about me. 

I start my first day of training for work tomorrow evening. right now, i'm flooded with work. I met with a teacher to discuss some homework i wasn't understanding and ended up getting home around 4;30 and waiting an hour for my friends ex boyfriend to drop off her belongings. Today was difficult also because I had to deal with child services and talk to them about the "sexual assault" i experienced. 

The entire time I wanted to cry. The world is unfair to me in the stupidest ways. I'd talked to my therapist, and several friends on the subject because it had gotten blown out of proportion, and people eventually found out. I never told the person who called the police on it for me about it though. The subject never came up, I think because she felt she had done enough, and ultimately damaged my mom and her's dynamic in the process. 

They sat me down next to my guidance counselor and a couple social workers, one who specialized in the homicides and assaults of younger people, the other just was your typical social worker who was checking in to see if you were unsafe, or whatever. I wanted out very desperately. Once they asked about the specifics, I couldn't believe that I felt myself tearing up. I'm assuming it was the feelings of frustration I had about my own personal experience being blown up enough for my guidance counselor to know. I guess it made sense because when the cop was standing in my room, I laid on my bed and I told them to leave me the fuck alone because I "just wanted to die". Everyone in unison told me not to say that kind of thing, that's how you got stuck in their records. Now that they knew you were troubled, you were going to be subjected to even more questioning. By everyone, I meant my cult of friends that had ended up sitting around on my bed and,,, basically coddling me. 

Thinking back to that makes my heart kind of sink. My friends had seen me at my worse then. All but a couple of course. I'm glad those few didn't because it had come to a point where my life was just one tragic event after another. Life continues to be just that. It's always something. This week I feel like I'm losing one friend, doubting another, and being insecure about the rest. Halloween is approaching, I'm so excited, but also truly sad. I want it to be good only because holidays are one of the few things I have to look forward to. I also am only alive because of my loved ones, but right now everything I live for is shaky, and I'm on the verge of crying almost always. 

October 25th 2015 9:26 pm

When I think of my ex best friend, I imagine the smell of her house. It had a weird and comforting aroma of her own smell and breath mixed with her moms cigarette smoke. The house was large, yet mostly empty. There was a sort of setup but not much beyond the average kitchen table and chairs. Picture frames and lawn decorations rested up against the wall, still in packaging. For months at a time did they usually stay put there, I only knew because I rarely visited her home but when I did, things never had changed much. 

Her room was fairly simple but kempt and comfortable. Yet also strangely empty/missing something. On one shelf of a bookcase she had an extensive arrangements of perfumes and lotions from the mall. Each were bought in favor to mask the scent of chain smoke, and I'm going to assume for her own pleasure as well. Not everything was in sake of her insecurities, it would be inconsiderate to think so. 

Among her beauty supplies (which ranged far beyond just lotions and perfumes), were books. I knew she was smart. I read her writing once, maybe twice in my life. It was full of potential. I was envious. I pictured her becoming someone a lot bigger than me. I imagined people idolizing her like they did Sylvia Plath. My only strength was art, still is. She even had some of my pieces on her wall and does to this day. Most were unmoving, an attempt to tap into an art style I had yet to develop. I've come a long way since then but I question every time it's mentioned, why does she still have art of mine hanging up if it doesn't represent who I really am anymore?

During my days of angst, and less mental illness, I never understood her. Once I moved, I found it especially hard to digest why she never wanted to visit me when I was only 15 minutes away. I missed her, I wanted to laugh and create memories over a platform other than skype. I of course, also had no other solid friends at the time and would spend many days by myself.

Living in the same town was much easier. She'd usually come over every other weekend. We never left my room. Every memory made was created in the small nestle of an unfinished basement that was my room. The floor was cold and dirty. The ceiling was patched up with spider webs and dust. It was still my safespace. I usually found a great amount of solidarity in it, so did she. 

One night we laid down on my bed, coats still on, red pigment flushing our cheeks. I put on an ambient record from 2012. (We may or may have not smoked previous to) The entire experience impacted my middle school life greatly. The world was lifted and set back down carefully onto me. We described back and forth our feelings with each levitating track. It was happy, it was dark. I knew I loved her like I did my own mother. I don't listen to the Pixies without picturing her and her (now ex) boyfriend walking down a path in the backwoods of our town, and her glancing back at me, telling me about how Mr. Grieves was still stuck in her head. 

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I'll probably do a friend entry every once in awhile when I'm feeling nostalgic. Not like anyone reads this blog but me anyways, it's mostly for self documentation, and for the day I go crazy.

October 24th 2015 8:05

Today has been hard. I'm being ravished in between two feelings. It feels like someone's pulling my hair everytime I take a step forward, but when I step back, they're even meaner, and I'm throttled with a full force down. There's this Feeling of hopelessness at the peak of my hormones. I don't usually like when people use my hormones to dismiss my feelings of ~depression~, because they never seem to realize that I deal with it on a daily basis, my worst thoughts and feelings peak every month. It's nothing to dismiss, it's not normal to doubt my life as much as I do. I've gotten to the point where normal interactions are borderline useless because I'm so self absorbed. When I am most weak, I only see my life in one toppling instance.

What sucks most is starting the week, just wondering how you'll get through. I want to focus on work ethic, and how I can set up my mornings. But everyday, I know my real goal is to just be able to make it to Friday. Friday though, usually doesn't result in complete happiness, more like a harsh and cold pinch to the heart. Here is my life, I'm living it...all by myself. I can do anything I want to right now and it's scary. 

I've gotten bored of typing as of now. Everything I say is annoying and repetitive.