You know exactly how it ends.
I am falling apart. It's like there are two of me, and they are always fighting over which me gets to live. When something wonderful happens, I indulge myself in it and get exstatic, but then my Sad side is like, "You know this isn't real. It's not about you." etc etc. I never really know which one to be. I know there there are different sides and ideas to everyone, but I'm never able to be one at a time. It's so frustrating talking to people. Their mind-set is so obvious, whether it be for the rest of their life or for the rest of their day. I hate knowing that I don't know. I always throw out these cliches and ideas and quotes about optimism and love and happiness, but I can never follow through. I never really feel happy anymore. I mean, yeah, when I hang out with my good friends and when I'm listening to good music, but in the back of my head, I'm beating myself up. I can't help but think that everything is my fault. It's just a problem of mine. I'm always done it. Since the incident on the stairs. I knew what was going on, and everyone but the person who did it knew it was his fault. But my mom still blamed me. When I went to my therapist, she said I push people away because I'm scared of failure. She said I failed English because I'm scared of failure. As much as you might think it doesn't make sense, I know exactly what she means. I don't try at all or put forth enough effort because I don't want ot give it my all and not do well, so I become mediocre so that I can atleast have something to blame for it. I don't even know who I like anymore. I thought I liked this one guy. I guess I thought I loved him, but there is too much in volved. Too much complication. I sort of lead him on because I wanted him to fall first, and now that he has, I don't think I'm worth it. Suddenly, a lot of people are saying nice things to me, but I'm pretty sure it's only because of my hair. The extreme always makes an impression. I know I've said this a million billion times before, but I'm saying it again. I feel alone. I feel like no matter how much my friends say that love me, I feel like they don't. I can't take anything for face-value. I want you to tell me you honestly love me. THAT'S IT. I've been lying to one of my friends about someone. I've wanted to tell her so bad because I feel so bad, but I can't bring myself to do it. I know how she feels about him and as much as she says she doesn't mind that other people like him, I know she does. That's how I feel. If I say anything, it just becomes an obvious complication. There is not one nice boy who I have not loved. I love everyone for something. For some small favor or help they have given me. I can't hate anyone. Not Andrew, not Nick, not Lizz, not George. No one. No matter what they have done to me, they have helped me. I am still alive. Yes, I have axperienced a bad morbid, weird life and I know I have every fucking right to dispise them, but I'm still here. I know that I'm young and that I still have a lot to do, but I feel so jaded. I hate being so dependant on the love of other people. It's the love I can never give myself. And I know this was a really pitiful entry, but right now, as I'm typing this, I'm starting to feel happier. I hate it. I remember one of my friends said that I am always the same emotion, jsut different shades of it. That I am Morbidly Saracstic. I wanted to disagree. It's so false. I am every emotion packed in all at one time. I I want to say so much, but at hte same time, I wish I never even thought of it so say. I'm so annoying. Plus, the pop corn is almost done. And the Strokes are on.
This, like golf, knitting, kayaking, and yoga, is very therapeutic.
You don't have to read it. I'm just a stupid little girl with big dreams and a unique vocabulary.