Look At Me

Blame, Failure, Family, fathers, forgotten, home, Journal, Personal, Relationships, school

There are more people who dislike me in the world than like me. I’m not even sure my own friends like me- who even are my friends? The people at the high school aren’t that close to me and the kids I did the musical with are like disinterested in me and the people at erclc don’t even care about me anymore.

Even the people who live with me don’t talk to me- it’s been two weeks since my mom’s boyfriend has even acknowledged my existence. He has been ignoring me when I’m in the same room as him and hasn’t look at me or said a single word to me since May 10th.

I feel like I have no one.

People don’t respond to my snapchats, they don’t respond to my texts, and last night Sam sent me a video of his friends saying i should fuck myself.

Perhaps I’m just a terrible person who does terrible things and it’s easy to hate me.

I came so close to killing myself last night. It feels like only three people in the world really care that I live and breath.

I’m temperamental, narcissistic, over dramatic, insecure, controlling – I’m a million terrible things combined into one shit storm of a person.

I’ve burned bridges with people because of my personality, I’ve hurt myself and others simply by being me. Why am I like this? I honestly believe that I am the worst person I know.

I’m a disappointment to my mom, I’m such a burden to her.

I was a burden to my grandparents as well.

And to my aunt and uncle.

Look at me, a fucked up human who people hate. A academically failing piece of shit who will never fulfill their dreams. Look at me. I’m awful. I’m just a plain bitch. I can’t even fucking do the dishes like my mom asks.

I haven’t changed. I’m still shitty. I hate myself.

I want loving parents who care about me. I want to be kissed on the forehead and for someone to make me tea before bed and I want someone to care that I’m suicidal. I want someone to tell me not to, to say that I have so much to live for and that they believe I can do it.

Instead, I have a mom who comes home and complains about work everyday.

I haven’t had a normal conversation with my dad since I was 13.

I’ve broken friendships and people are uncomfortable around me.

Look at me. Who have I become?

It’s Because

Failure, Family, Journal, Personal

I have the tendency to blame one particular issue on my unhappiness, but I realized just now that isn’t the case.

it’s the mixture of everything that makes me unhappy.

it’s the fact that I am battling with liking myself, because I’m impulsive and sexual – it’s that I am hopelessly in need of someone to love me. it’s that I care so much.
my dad was abusive.
Sam, Cadence, and Talon – and my inability to date someone who is actually good for me.
my mom is emotionally unavailable.
my friends have a million of their own issues
no one has time for each other.
I might be extraordinarily busy all the time, but the second I have nothing to do, I am confronted with a wall the size trump wants to build of depression and all my emotional issues.
I can’t find someone who I love that loves me back.
I’m stressed about money and I’m becoming an adult this year, yet I don’t have a job yet.
I obsess over guys who could care less that I existed.
I love doing things that I’m terrible at so they make me feel like a failure – especially painting and physics.
I am so open and put myself out there, and it’s worked like three out of one hundred times.
The world seems so dull and sad, like there’s no actual happiness anywhere out there because everyone fakes it so well.
I have sent him a snapchat everyday for about a month and yet he never responds – so why do I still do it?? He obviously doesn’t like me.
my father lost his job, he is dating someone, and likely moving out of state.
I have no adults in my regular life who are actively proud of me.
I just want to feel satisfied, loved, and like people care about each other.

 

They, Themselves, and I

Failure, forgotten, fuck you, Future, Her, home, Journal, no trust, Personal, school, Small Things

Yesterday was an insane and emotional day – it’s funny how one can mask their identity so easily while out in the public eye, it’s so convincing that they even believe it, and then the moment they get in the car, the mask melts away. They cry. They scream. The perfect mask they had acquired throughout the day, is meaningless.

The things that still hold meaning are what made them cry in physics, the things that are too deep for even their family to help with.

It’s when they’re last on the gym court during dodge ball and everyone is yelling at them to score and get everyone back in the game – yet they fail to. Losing the game.

It’s when their PE coach comments about how their tshirt is getting “looser” and that they are “getting better” at the mile — even though they still only got 9:30 on it. They know it’s not the best time in the world, and would rather not have her comment on it.

It’s when they’re in the car on their way home, and their mom asks how their day went, how school was, and they can’t even respond without a flood of tears ensuing.

It’s when they are laying in bed at 1:47pm and the next week they have finals and all they can think about is how calming death sounds. How easy it would be for them to just jump.

It’s when they’re sitting in the dressing room during rehearsal and they can’t allow themselves to think about themselves or how they’re going no where in life already, because the director instructed that everyone “check their baggage at the door” – they can’t let anyone know that their costume makes them feel ugly because every other princess in the show got a hoop skirt but them self.

It’s when they can’t allow their stories to become person, so they resort to talking about them self in the third person.

Complaining

Athiesm, Athiest, beautiful, Beauty, Blame, Failure, fuck you, Future, god, Her, Hope, Humanist, Jealousy, Journal, Love, Memories, New, no trust, Personal, Religion, school, science

This last week has been hard.

I fell down a hill and ended up hitting my house. My whole body is sore.

I lost 10 points in PE because I couldn’t run the mile – my leg was too beat up, I hardly made it through the day walking between classes.

Also during PE: I ended up on a team with the two athletic girls (one of whom is in AP Lang with me —  let’s just say I embarrassed myself. My hair band broke, and my hair is at this really ugly length, it’s not quite above the shoulder, but it’s not really below it.. So, I was messing with my hair instead of trying to play badminton. I’m pretty sure they don’t like me now. Pretty sure I lost the game for us.

After PE, I had a physics test. Completely forgot how to solve one of the equations, even though I had studied an extra hour of unrequired materials in preparation two nights before. Of COURSE I forgot. The teacher gave me this look of disappointment, mixed with something related to anger and simply said “you knew this was going to be on the test.” and he was right. but I had also studied. I was understanding it. But then the test came and I was already having a bad day and the next thing I knew, I was out of his class and trying my absolute best to not cry at school. I can’t be the girl who cries at school again…

I’ve made a point to not talk about my family issues at school, or about anything negative that would set me apart. I don’t want anyone at school to know my past or present grievances.

But I still had a panic attack at school and hid in the bathroom stall, trying to control my breathing — those bathrooms seriously need loud fans or music because you can hear EVERYTHING that is going on in the next stall over. Seriously.

To top it off, we had vocal auditions that afternoon. Imagine singing, after having been so worked up, you had to stop yourself from crying.

The group did vocal warm ups together, and I’m perfectly comfortable singing in a group, but solos and I do not mix (at least not yet). And so when they asked me to do a solo part in the warm up, I nearly puked. I felt something lurch up from in my stomach, and lost my breath. Anxiety is great.

Then, that night was when I found out I had lice.

It was a wonderful day.

My sister is leaving for europe in four days.. She’ll be gone for a month. I’ve never been apart from her for that long. But she’s kinda pissed at me right now, and I hope things get better between her and I before she gets back..

She’s going to be gone for my birthday.. I’m turning seventeen in a month and two days.

Everything has me feeling so defeated. I don’t feel like I can cry anymore. I don’t feel like I can express my emotions without being judged. It hasn’t stopped me, but it makes me hesitant.

I want to feel pretty again. I haven’t felt pretty since I cut my hair. not really.. I’ll have moments of feeling attractive, but I don’t look in the mirror and think I’m beautiful. I would like to think that I’m pretty without my long hair, but I don’t think I believe that.

I feel so sick. Between waiting for the cast list to go up and my physics grade to go on Aeries, I really am not sure how I’m going to cope with all this stress.

Oh, and I decided to post this on facebook:

I wish I could have read this post early on, after my parents divorce.

I wish that people hadn’t excused what happened in our house as “God’s will” or even said that it was “for the better” — no. Definitely not.

Being mentally abused was not good, it hasn’t made me a better person in ways that I couldn’t have grown without it. I loath when I am told that it was a good learning experience or even that I am a better person because of it.

No. Abuse didn’t make me a better person, it’s stifled me in many ways emotionally and socially – and I would never tell another person that it was a positive thing if I learned that it had happened to them.

PTSD hasn’t made me a better person – I’ve become more understanding, yes, but that isn’t to say that it wouldn’t have happened without it. I have been told that it will allow me to walk a path of individuality because of I have it — while that may be true, the panic attacks that come with PTSD do not make me a better person. They hurt me. They stop me from performing as a healthy human being in social situations – that happened just today at school.

It’s okay for bad things to happen to us, and the “band-aid” idea that the bad things happen for a reason does more damage than good to a person who is in pain. Allow us to grieve, allow for our pain to show in ways that may be socially looked down on – crying, not smiling in public, or even just not looking happy 100% of the time – those things are okay. Being unhappy isn’t bad – it’s healthy if you’ve experienced something traumatic.

A lady who I used to know from church decided to comment on it. Mind you, I’m not friends with her on facebook. But this is what she said:

“I doubt God wants people to suffer. However, he can help you recover and use your experiences for good if you allow him to.”

My response: ” It wasn’t my intention to communicate that God was purposefully allowing people to be in pain – I was simply trying to say that when people pass off horrific events (such as car accidents and domestic violence) as “gods purpose” it can be a destructive mindset for those who are in pain. What we need is to be loved and accepted for where we are in life, and if where we are isn’t a happy place – then show compassion, acceptance and love us through our pain. If there is a god, I don’t believe he would be mean-spirited or “out to get people” – want to make sure I’m clear on that”

Her retort: “You KNOW there is a god. I understand where you’re coming from and I appreciate you shedding some light on how to best love those who are in pain.”

Oh wait. Sorry Mrs. Russell.. Sorry that I didn’t know what I believed and that I had to ask you.

But I didn’t ask.

And for the record, I don’t “KNOW” there is a god, so cool your tits. No one knows if there are any deities, or if there aren’t. So. Just. Chill.

Asking for It.

anti feminism, Awareness, beautiful, Beauty, Blame, equality, Failure, feminism, fuck you, Her, home, Journal, no trust, Personal, sexual harassment, stalker, Street Harassment

Adult men and teenage boys should stop following women on the street. Men should stop making unsolicited comments on women’s bodies. They should humanize themselves and the women they are doing these things to.

Today, the 8th of October 2016, a grown man followed me in his SUV. He consciously made the decision to follow a young girl, by removing his parked car from a parking lot to driving alongside her at a walking pace. This man, whoever he is, watched me walking and thought, “I should get her in my car”. I can’t allow myself to imagine what would have happened to me if he had gotten me inside of his SUV.

All this happened on the street I live on. He targeted me not even a block from my home. As I was walking, I realized I couldn’t go home – I couldn’t give him such precious information.

This was the second time a man followed me while in a car. This was the fourth time a man I was unfamiliar with has made an unsolicited comment about my body while in public. All of these things have happened this year. I am only sixteen years old. How much worse will this get as I get older?

It is disgusting that grown men can freely gawk at underage girls and have virtually no punishment.

In more than one way, I have been fortunate. I have only had these experiences during daylight. I have always been in moderately public places, and they have never used force or violence towards me. But those things have happened to other women, and I wouldn’t doubt that the men who have harassed me are capable of sexually assaulting, kidnapping, or raping their victims.

I am also fortunate that the police made no comment on my attire – they didn’t slut shame me for wearing a crop top, a short skirt, and wedges. They are taking my case seriously, despite the fact that they could get away with a simple “she was asking for it”. In fact, the two officers were very receptive and gave me a lot of comfort after the incident.

“Hey you!”
I turned. A man, in a car? Okay. Continued walking, crossed the street. Don’t acknowledge him, hopefully he’ll go away. Walking, I heard a car come up behind me. Is it him? It’s not him, don’t worry. This wouldn’t happen to you again. This stuff only happens like, once.. Right? The car came up from behind, it slowed down, approaching me. Nearly stopping, it crawled to a walking pace.”Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be walking,” he said “let me give you a ride.”
“It’s alright,” I said, “I don’t need a ride, thank you,” I looked directly in his eyes as I said the last bit.
He continued to follow me. Hoping he couldn’t see how nervous he made me, I refrained from wiping the sweat off my brow. Why isn’t he going away? I want him to go away.
“You really are pretty,” my chest tightened. I couldn’t breathe.
“Come on, let me give you a ride,”
Why? So you can rape me? He sped away, turning around just a little ways ahead of me. He stopped. Why did he stop? Is he waiting for me? Is he going to try to run me over? Is he going to get out of his car and try to take me? His car started to move again. I let out an audible sigh. Coming closer to me, I figured he would just drive away. Of course he didn’t. Approaching me again, he rolled down his window, “Hey pretty girl,” he waited for a response. I gave none.
“Okay, fine, be that way.” He was angry. Sped away.

I rushed home, tripping over my wedges, I nearly sprained my ankle. I just wanted to be safe. Never had I felt so alarmed when I could see home – my safe zone.

I made it inside, sat down in the sofa and looked at my door. A noise outside startled me. is it him? No. There were children’s voices. I was safe. But I couldn’t stop staring at the door. I got up to lock it, then proceeded to lock myself in the bathroom and look up harassment on my phone.

My Life

Blame, Failure, forgotten, fuck you, Future, Hope, Journal, Personal, Poetry, school

My life has become a list of to-do’s.
My life has become projects.
My life has become due dates and grades.

My life revolves around point-recovery.
My life revolves around getting through the lap.
My life revolves around getting out of bed when the alarm goes off.

My life is circling around rhetoric.
My life is circling around the bell.
My life is circling around anxiety and stress.

My life goes by with little notice.
My life goes by with a slice of mediocrity.
My life goes by and with each day it becomes less mine.

I Ran Today

Failure, forgotten, fuck you, Future, home, Hope, Journal, New, no trust, Personal, school

My suicide note is a report card,
My ambition lost with the last F I received,
Every graded discussion has me in shambles,
Every Exam has me on my knees.

I never considered myself much of a quitter,
I left my conscience at home today,
Ran the mile real fast today,
Ran out of the house as I left today,

Forgot the last time I remembered
Forgot about a lot of things,
Can’t forget about the F today,
Can’t forget my keys

Laughed really hard at school today,
Laughed really hard before I cried today.
Hid what I felt and died today,
Hid from myself and what I want today.

F is for Failing

Failure, fuck you, Future, home, Humanist, Journal, New, no trust, school

I feel miserable.

I feel stupid.

I have one A.

I have one B..

I have three C’s.

I have one D.

I have one F.

I didn’t think high school would be this difficult.

I wake up in the morning, crawl out of bed and loath the day coming.

I feel like throwing up most days and I’m not sure why.

I always have a throbbing headache now.

I am self conscious about things that never used to bother me.

I find myself binge eating more than ever.

I hate myself for binge eating because I know I hate being unfit when I’m in PE.

I see the kids in PE and wonder why I let myself get where I have.

I see the kids in PE and hate that I can’t do a pushup.

I get home, look in the mirror, and I don’t look like myself anymore.

I find myself crying when I lay in bed at night.

I don’t know why.

I kick myself because there are other kids at my school who are in multiple AP classes.

They can keep their grades up. I don’t know why I can’t.

They are the kids who are in anatomy and chemistry, they can keep their grades up.

They know how to take the tests and do well on them.

These kids know how to do these things I have never done before.

I’m really stressed.

I’m second guessing everything I have ever thought of myself.

Some things haven’t changed.

I cheated on my physics homework last night.

I can’t live up to the standards I used to hold myself to.

This week, I’ve contemplated ending it all more than I would like to admit.

I’ve contemplated dropping out of school.

I’ve thought about how easy it would be to just walk into a busy street.

I get home and there is drama.

I have to do my homework.

I stay up late to get it all done.

I leave home and there is drama.

I get to school and I feel judgement.

I get to class early, judgement.

I get to class late, judgement.

I walk in the halls, judgement.

I change into my PE clothes, judgement.

Walking to class, there is judgement.

In the bathroom, waiting in line, judgement.

I have anxiety like never before – I can’t do any of my hobbies anymore.

Watch tv shows? Not unless I want to fail.

Fail. Failure. Loser. Slow. Incapable. Over confident. Fat. Awkward.

I just want a friend. A close friend. I don’t have one anymore.. In fact, I don’t really have anyone to confide in. My mom never has been good at those things, Riley doesn’t like to have me bringing her down, and that leaves Talon. To him, this is just self-loathing. Thanks. I have no real friends yet – there’s Allison in PE but we don’t talk or see eachother outside of there, and there is Noah. Sadly, I think those are the two people I have made acquaintances with. Noah wouldn’t be able to help and it would be weird of me to talk to him about anything besides the homework we have in common. I don’t even know Allison’s last name.

Once again, I find myself in this place. I am alone. I am left to solve things by myself and with no one to give me sound advice that I can actually apply to my life. I guess that makes you, my readers, the only people connected to me this personally. I don’t know your faces, I don’t know your names, I don’t even know if you like me, but thank you. You’re here when I need you, you listen. You take the time to read what I am saying, despite how completely meaningless it feels.