I think it’s so sad when I get other people’s mail by accident. They don’t even know what they’re missing. It’s like having the winning lottery ticket and not checking the numbers that night. Or having the files get mixed up at the doctor’s office, and you aren’t aware you have a terminal illness. I’m being over dramatic. Well I’m sorry Andrew Canfeld, you aren’t getting your LIPA bill this month.
All I want to get out of high school is knowing that I got all I could out of the experience. Good grades, enough friends, and maybe possibly become a better person along the way. I have done all of those things and more, so why am I still miserable? Because my average is a point lower than I want? So a 101 isn’t good enough for me? Or maybe because I don’t have 30 guys falling for me at a time. You’d think since I barely flirt with anyone, I would understand why I’m not that girl that has guys knocking down her front door. Or because I’m one of the few single people left in my group of friends. My obnoxiously high standards probably play some part in that. Because I don’t have a flat stomach. Even though I get called skinny on a regular basis. Because I can’t sing as well as I’d like to, even though I’ve gotten every part I wanted in the last 3 shows I was in. Because my nose isn’t straight. Because my ears stick out. And both of those issues define if I’m pretty or not? Nothing is enough anymore. My own standards for myself are making me miserable. The one of the worst things that can inside a person is when you get sick of yourself. Random little things, that make me hate myself. I sit at home reading and I’m okay with that. I’m not hysterical and fun all the time, and I’m afraid of people in so many ways. I’m a bitch when people don’t even try to understand me, but hate me anyway. I cry three times a week minimum. I feel awkward at parties. I don’t tell people about the sensitive areas of my life, because I don’t want anyone to know me fully. I have secret crushes still, because rejection makes me hate myself more than I already do. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m trying to be happy. I really am. It’s not working. My friends are getting sick of me. I’m invited to less and less. I haven’t flirted with a guy I like in at least 6 months. And there’s several couples that, whenever I see them, I feel a wave of unrequited love pass over me, even though I know that none of them would have ever worked. And almost all of my friendships that still exist feel like I’m putting more into them than I’m getting out. I just want to be happy.
Everyday when I walk home, I take out my cellphone. I open it, and hold it up to my ear. And I just talk. I say anything and everything that goes through my mind. I talk about the day’s events: my friends, teachers, clothes, enemies, insecurities, weather, beauty, and myself. I feel like it’s the only time I’m not wearing a fucking mask. I laugh when I make jokes. I cry when I bring up the crap in my life. I stop on the side of the road when my words overcome me, and walking is no longer a possibility. And finally, no one is judging me. It’s the rare moment when I don’t even judge myself.
I’m just waiting for the day when there’s actually someone on the other side of the phone. Because talking to no one is terribly depressing.
Just like the 9057398267298 people everywhere. I want to like myself. But I can’t. Sorry. My friends tolerate me. I’m afraid of people. My chest is collapsing. I’m not fun anymore. I write poems, but they suck. I watch movies, and I have hope and dreams that will never happen. Love doesn’t exist. I’m ugly. No one will ever want me, and if he does, I’ll fuck it up anyway. I don’t deserve everything I have.
Daily Vent turned into nothing. So I’ll write whenever the fuck I want because it’s my blog and I can do that. Here’s some notes to various people in my life. If you think one of these is to you, I guarantee you it’s wrong. and anyway, no one is following this that I know so fuck.
Bitch, your boyfriend isn’t attractive. I don’t want him, and I’m actually offended by the fact you think I do.
I still write you letters in my diary even though I’ve been over you for a year now.
I’m worried about you. you have destructive side, and you beat yourself up. you drive me up the wall half of the time, and sometimes I feel like when we hang out you just want to feel bad for yourself, and you want to drag me down with you. But I really love you and I have no idea what I would do without you.
I hate the fact that you don’t understand me at all. I don’t want to hook up with you because I get too attached. I told you that, but you just told me that I could not get attached if I really tried. And you’re acting like I’m just prude and not letting myself. I hooked up with you several times. So where is this sudden prude wave coming from? Oh and sometimes I hate listening to you talk, so I zone out and look at your face. sorry. And P.S. moving my hand to your crotch in public is not a good way of getting me to hook up with you.
I don’t like to speak when it isn’t necessary. Yeah in school I pretend to be this social butterfly that can talk to everyone and loves to speak her mind. When I come home, I can’t handle anymore bullshit. I NEED to not talk. You really don’t understand that. And when you talk constantly, expecting me to answer every 6 seconds, I get annoyed. I’m sorry. I can only be perfect for 9 hours a day. I can’t handle it. And you don’t get it.
I’m starting to understand your way of living as I’m getting older, but the instability scares me. Not having a house scares me. When you live on 40 dollars a week, it scares me. I love you, and you mean so much to me, but I get so frustrated. This book you’re writing isn’t going to suddenly buy you a house and a steady job. Putting your entire everything into this book isn’t going to pay off. And I think somewhere in your head you know it. But giving into the reality would take you to a place where your fantasy world doesn’t exist. It’s so weird how someone can be 40 years older than me, but is more naive than I have ever been.
I’m not perfect. We all know it. So please, realize that I’m not a super human. I probably cry 3 times more often than you do. I don’t think I’m better than anyone, sorry I can’t play the villain for you.
Who is everyone?
She never asked for pain, she just wanted someone to love. And after it all, she not only lost a year of searching, but she lost a friend.
He didn’t ask for love, especially not from her. All he wanted was someone to listen. Lucky for him, he lost nothing more than a friendly acquaintance.
Him: a charismatic, lovable boy with extraordinary talent. Girls and boys adored him, too much in his opinion.
Her: a seemingly average girl, but once inside her head, you never leave. Smart, quirky, interesting, but of no particular talent or attractiveness.
Naturally, she fell in like with him, although her head knew she was doomed from the start. Her heart won the battle, and he would be her only source of happiness for the next year. Also a source of sadness and frustration, but not the only one.
He and her became friends. She knew he thought of her only as that, but her heart still wanted a companion. He, being lonely, would occasionally flirt with her.
This flirting was what kept her in a painful cycle of loving and hating him. Once she finally thought she was over him, his flirting dragged her back.
And he knew of her infatuation. So after this flirting, he would avoid her for weeks at a time. This did far more harm than good, considering those weeks, for her, were rejection every single time. This cycle went on for a year.
At the end of this year, he found the courage to ask out a girl. Of course, it wasn’t her. She saw the happy couple walk off holding hands down the hallway. Pain and relief hit her like a train hitting someone who wants to end his life.
He told his now girlfriend of her, and her crush. This made the girlfriend defensive and slightly jealous. She still doesn’t understand why, considering it was the girlfriend who got him.
And he still somewhat avoids her, even though feelings have certainly changed. She has found other targets, although none of them have returned the feelings.
He is monitoring her every move, looking for signs of the love that once existed. She has moved on, but she still finds herself valuing his opinion more than she should.
And in the silent hours of the night, she still sometimes finds herself longing for what was, and could’ve been. The tears on her pillow aren’t of current love, but the melancholy of a lost friendship, and the gaping hole of a broken fantasy.
She knows that he never did, and never will, return her feelings. And facing that fact causes her pain, even after two years after that first spark of anything she felt toward him.
I stopped doing days because I don’t know why I tried to write everyday. I’m not proving anything to anyone.
Halloween was a little crazy. I hooked up with my best guy friend, and I’m pretty sure it was only because he was desperate and the party got shut down. Then my actual best friend proceeded to hookup with him shortly after. It was fine, until I realized it wasn’t. Now I’m feeling ridiculously hopeless. and ugly.
Today is my birthday, and I don’t know why I’m still melancholy. Everyone was nice and great to me today, but I still feel devastated and collapsing. Maybe it’s because I always end up feeling disappointed on birthdays. Not this one, but the last 7 or 8 birthdays had a little bit of disappointment in it.
I wrote a poem:
Rejection
has a way of reminding us
of the journeys failed.
It creeps in where it’s least expected
and bombards
the walls of the mind.
Depression and melancholy
flood over the
broken façade of perfection.
Freeing the dams,
letting the tide of truth
wash over avoidance and composure.
No longer skilled, attractive or desirable,
Self-destruction erodes
the positivity constructed.
See
the cycle,
like the inevitability of the tides
rushing over abandoned satisfaction.
Feel
the chilling, grey water
isolating you from
all who reside on the mainland.
Hear
the roar
of doubt,
and the drips of what could have been.
Smell
the envy,
lingering toward the lucky ones
who will not suffer your fate.
Taste
everything,
but never notice sweetness
or love.
Sail away into your thoughts,
disregarding beauty, happiness
and anyone who attempts to fight the undertoe.
Drown to end it all,
never again feel the disconnect
and hatred of the raging seas.
Every time I need to cry, I take a shower so my mom can’t hear me. I showered 4 times in the last 24 hours.
When will I get out of high school? I hope when that day comes, I’m still alive.
