I Wish Things Didn’t Make Me Want to Kill Myself

Seriously.

I hate being suicidal.

I hate being insecure.

I hate being fucking depressed.

I hate being negative about everything.

I hate being unable to tell anyone anything.

I hate having to act the same damn part 24/7.

I hate circling 1’s for all the mental illness symptoms on all my physical examinations when the honest answer is probably a 10.

I hate never trusting anyone or anything enough to talk about anything even remotely close to my heart to them, least of all myself.

I hate hating people, humans who have many good qualities but in whom I can only see the bad, but most of all myself.

I hate my many little social oversights resulting in such a damn big public relations debacle.

I hate being the kid who has the perfect life until you find out it all isn’t so perfect.

I hate being Madness Behind the Beauty.

I hate being stuck in this situation.

I hate being so hated.

I hate being me.

Silence: Type 1

1.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tock.

The clock ticked as half the class sat open-jawed. The whole room was enveloped in a hopeless silence, a silence unbreakable after the teacher yelled at Ashley that she was a “stupid, fat waste of space.”

My first reaction was panic, but then, all I wanted to do was slap that Mr. Jones. Ashley may be probably the stupidest kid in the class, but she was also by far the nicest. She gets picked on all the time, but the truth is that she’s just misunderstood and underappreciated.

Apparently, no teacher cares about how she went hungry for lunch one day after giving her own bagged lunch to a homeless person that she’s never even met before. No teacher cares about that type of thing. All they care about is the last test she flunked.

I wanted to say something, but I didn’t want to get myself into shit. So, I stayed silent.

And the class gaped and sat silent.

Silent.

Silent.

The clock ticked and tocked, until it hit the 3:45 mark. Slowly and solemnly, we all filed out of the classroom, some of us too angry to laugh or talk, others too scared of Mr. Jones to do so.

Silence

I was crying in the dark, taking care that my crying doesn’t turn into sobs, taking care that he doesn’t hear me, taking care that I at least appear strong on the surface.

Let’s just say that I failed miserably.

I was thinking about all the times that he manipulated me, like the other day when he threatened to leave with her, when he told me that he wouldn’t love me anymore if I told them, when he tied me to that chair, when two days later I was stupid enough to tell him that I still loved him.

I lay there without a sound, thinking to myself, rivers of tears flowing uncontrollably down my cheeks.

I turned over.

My hot tears had already cooled on my pillow, the result being that I was basically laying in a cold swamp of damp feathers and cloth. I know I had basically ruined my pillow, so I commanded myself to quit crying, but it just wouldn’t happen. It’s like the tears were alive with a mind of their own.

I wanted to go to the bathroom. His arm was around me, so I knew I’d risk waking him up, but at that moment, I simply didn’t have any shits to give anymore.

So I gently got his arm off of me, got up, and looked back. Okay. Still clear: he still seemed sound asleep. I tried to walk to the bathroom, and nearly tripped in the darkness.

I sat on the toilet lid for a while, trying to calm myself down (to limited success).

Then I took an aspirin and went back to bed, this time without tears but with a bad case of hiccups.

I tried to think my life through: how in the actual fuck did I get involved in such a screwed-up, toxic relationship. And the answer…

I have no fucking clue whatsoever.

Maybe it’s just one of those relationships where we have this twisted love of each other.

It’s where I love him to death but there’s still a deep, wide gap between us, a dark abyss of unknowns to wade through before we actually get to know each other.

And both of us are too afraid to start, to break the silence.

Maybe it’s ‘cuz we both want to love, to be loved, to have the feeling that someone will actually give a shit if we died tomorrow.

And ‘cuz both of us know that our real personalities aren’t all that lovable.

Or that we just love this aura of mystery, of not knowing each other too well, of…

“Zing! Zing! Zing!”

My alarm went off.

I was laying on the bed in a confused mess when he came into the room. I asked him the time.

He said, “Honey, it’s 2 in the afternoon.”

I relaxed. I could finally see why the night seemed so long.

Two minutes later, I was brushing my teeth, the familiar feeling of his hand in my hair. My reason told me to shrug off that arm, get away from him as fast as possible, but I somehow simply couldn’t do any more than just theorize about leaving him.

Half an hour later, we were making love again.

 

Twinkling

It was 3 a.m.

My calculator read 12.35603. I hovered for a moment between truncating and rounding up. Just to be on the safe side, I wrote down 12.36.

Whew. Another subject done. Two to go…Science and History, right? Wait, or did I also have homework for French?

I logged onto Veracross, and checked what I still had to do for tomorrow. I crossed my fingers, hoping that I could go to sleep before 4 a.m.

The website loaded.

And it loaded.

And loaded…

And loaded…

Just fucking tell me what I have for homework tonight already, you asshole of a computer!

Loading…Loading…Loading…


Beach ball.

Oh, shit. The Beach Ball of death…again.

I shut all my windows and reopened them, all the while wishing that I were dead already.

I stretched a little, hoping that it would help my headache: my head was spinning with fatigue caused by a hopeless caffeine crash resulting from drinking three cups of coffee in four hours.

For about the twentieth time in a month, I broke down.

Does everyone’s life have to be so hard? No, I don’t think so. Then I remembered the words of Ryan Higa on the topic of FWP (First World Problems). JUST SUCK IT UP, I thought, the kids in Africa have it a helluva lot worseAt least I’m eating three meals a day.

The webpages slowly came back to life.

I clicked over to Calendar on Veracross to look at my assignments and possible tests and quizzes.

I blinked. I simply couldn’t believe it. My Science and History homework were all due next week, not tomorrow, not even this week. Whew. Three hours’ work saved for another night, or, should I say, another morning.

But I still had my French homework.

“#2 C’est à Toi, Traduction p. 20”

Okay. This is easy work. Unless if I’m an absolute bozo, this will go fast.

“C’est à Toi #2

  1. As-tu jamais lu le journal…”

I wrote down the answers, knowing that in my fatigue my handwriting was almost illegible. But I still kept going. After all, I simply couldn’t care about anything other than going to sleep.

4:00 a.m.


I raised my head from my desk and stretched, realizing that I’ve been in the same position for at least six hours.

I looked around, seeing the first hints of light pouring in through the cracks in the blinds.

I opened the blinds in my room.

I saw the quiet dawn outside.

The empty highway, that in less than three hours will become full of rush-hour traffic again.

The almost-invisible wisp of what you would call a cloud.

The green grass in a last gasp for life before everything turns yellow and dry.

The little sliver of what you would call a moon still holding on to the last moments of night before the day began anew.

Two beautiful stars, twinkling in the last dark before it became light again.

School…?

This post is going to be short AF for 1 simple reason: school has started. I don’t have any time to do anything except studying anymore: my school is that rigorous. I have six core classes (including 2 foreign languages, español and français), an AP, and a bunch of other classes (get hyped for Painting? AcaDec? Engineering…? Anyone? No?).

In short, I’ll be really busy, and the chances of me posting regularly will be basically nil. But I still love to write & will do so in whatever free time I still have.

To prevent you from getting (even more) bored, I have some more interesting stuff to talk about: I spent an amazing summer this year, and it was a summer full of adventure, fun, experimentation, and (trying to be) fierce (turned out I would never make a tiger).

I still haven’t finished writing one last post about the summer of 2K16, and as soon as I do, I will post it. But…yeah. That’s basically it for today, and if you have anything about your summer/back to school experience that you want to share, I would appreciate if you would leave your thoughts in the comments below. See you later!

The Closest Thing to a Diary That I Have Ever Kept

 

The day you walked out the door, a piece of me died, then they took you away, you just need to remember. – Blue Jeans, Lana del Rey

Being alone makes everything better, doesn’t it? Whether you’re in a megalopolis or a forest, being alone makes everything more enjoyable, less stressful. Am I antisocial? But the only place where being alone is bad news is when you’re in a little town where everyone knows each other. Then the stares make me shudder. I guess the reason why I feel as great in big cities as in Nature is ’cause once there’s more than a certain amt. of people, Alice, Bob & Dylan become Person 1, Person 2 & Person 3, just like Tree 1, Tree 2, & Tree 3. So I guess what stresses me out isn’t humans, it’s peopleindividuals.

It doesn’t matter anymore what anyone else thinks. I’ve had enough of their shit. Call me an introvert, antisocial. I just officially ran out of shits to give.

I wish I were Steve Jobs. Then I wouldn’t have to yield to society: I will mold it to yield to me. The people who called me insane two years ago will be kissing my ass two years later in what was a “Cult of Mac.” But first I guess I have to endure their shit to be able to become sb. like that.

Don’t think. Thinking only makes it worse.

Running, running, running, running from myself tonight. – Runnin’ (Lose It All), Beyoncé

The years pass and now I’m 13. I’ve made a vow to get sth. done by 13. Grades don’t count; I already have straight A+’s, & have had them for as long as I can remember. I’ve thought of starting a business.

It’s so funny. My mom may be less than 10 miles away, with her car, ready to drive me home, a city is possibly 5 miles away. And yet I’m stuck in a hell, a place so regimented that it’s driving me insane. It’s good practicar mi español, but being here for 13-ish days simply ain’t my idea of fun. But I got a scholarship (guaranteed, I did NOT know what I was signing up for), it’s good on a college transcript & the forest around it I usually escape into during Morning & Afternoon Recess. And not all the people here are assholes; one actually gives a shit. That’s always a good sign. But yet another complaint, the things they do here make no fucking sense whatsoever. They make these nonsense acts (that I semi-enjoy) before each meal, and we all have to scream & act out “Lights, Camaras, Action!” And this is just 1 example of the many ritualistic bullshits they subject us to here. But it’s a good learning experience, maybe not in Spanish grammar but in taking care of myself, dealing w/ people, etc. So I’ll make it through the sun drying out my eczema-prone skin (& no, sunscreen doesn’t always work on me, & I can’t always wear long pants) & regimented ritualistic bullshit. And being able to use a Global Citizen Scholarship is always an honor.

Tell me if you wanna go home, just tell me if I’m back on my own, giving back a heart that’s on loan. Just tell me if you wanna go home. – Tell Me If You Wanna Go Home, Keira Knightley (Begin Again OST)

But even the President of the United States sometimes has to stand naked. – It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding), Bob Dylan

I’m just getting more & more worn out each day. And I watch as my precious 3 months of summer go by. This shithole is literally taking up 1/6 of my 3 months. Fuck. Just fuck. But I have to be grateful for my month in Thailand & my weeks at home.

I usually hate walking. But these walks are the only thing keeping me sane right now. I just saw my mom. That makes it worse. If I don’t think about it, I can actually get through these torturous days. But if I do, then all hell breaks loose. It has gotten better w/ some adjusting, but this place still disgusts & depresses me. Maybe a reason is ’cause I don’t actually learn anything here: the old Sra. back home taught me more in 1 year than these shitheads can in 20. To start, these people don’t have as much knowledge themselves as Sra. does. I bet that all of them put together don’t have the mind & brainpower of 1/2 a Sra. But “fuck it, it was something to do.” (I Took a Pill in Ibiza, Mike Posner)

I may have a crush on a gay guy. But my crushes are never serious; if I don’t see him for 2 days, chances are I’d have “forgotten all about” him (not literally, but in the sense of not crushing on him anymore).

I just want to go home now. I’m a little disgusted, repulsed, but mostly I’m just worn out. They think their shit is fun…I FUCKIN’ DON’T. But it’s not the “counselors'” fault. After all, they just act on the orders of older & grosser people. & the funny thing for me is that none of this is from “ill-will.” It’s just a difference of opinion on what’s fun & what’s not fun. I miss my computer, programming, & being alone. Now everyone else is “napping.” At least I can get some peace (except for someone who’s sobbing).

So just keep dancing, can’t stop the feeling, dance, dance, dance – Can’t Stop the Feeling!, Justin Timberlake

There’s a dance tonight. Everyone’s so excited; I don’t give a shit. It may be fun, it may be boring…”me da igual.” Winnie keeps following me. Can’t she give me some time to myself? I guess it’s just ’cause she doesn’t have anyone else to talk to. I feel bad for the bitch, but still, she’s a bitch. There’s another bitch too: this girl who always wears cropped tops & uber-short shorts. It’s not my business, but it’s still pretty fucking hilarious. She’s from this rich family who has afforded to send her here for, like, 10 years straight. I think it’s ridiculous: she’s still an “Intermediate.” But there’s a guy I might want to dance w/ tonight. He’s not too hot, but to me he’s attractive AF.

All I want is for him to be here, to kiss me & fuck me & tell me everything’s fine, that there’s just like 40% left & then we could go home or at least leave this fucking hell.

The dance last night was the 1st “party” I actually enjoyed.

Sometimes I wonder if it was just a lie, ’cause I’m not fine at all. – Amnesia, 5SOS

This entire social experiment has turned out amazingly well; I didn’t expect it to go 1/2 this well. I’m not as happy, but it has proven that I can make friends & I’ve found the “recipe” to having a good social life & choice friends. At least that worked out fine.

I thought it was their problem, now I know it’s mine. But I fixed it. Hopefully everything goes well from now on.

Questions of science, science & progress don’t speak as loud as my heart. I’m going back to the start. Nobody said it was easy, no one ever said it would be this hard. I’m going back to the start. – The Scientist, Coldplay

Pulled apart at the seams and it’s blue… – Colors, Halsey

My life is a mess right now. I’m sick & fucking tired of everyone & everything here. 2 weeks is too short to “live” & too long to just have fun. But I’m sure that even if it had been a year, I still wouldn’t be able to form permanent friendships/relationships. Good thing that when we go home none of us will actually remember another after, like, 3 days. I feel like I’m wasting my precious summer 3 months off here. Yesterday I actually had a little fun; today it turns out that that was an illusion. Fuck me in the ass. My life’s gone to shit.

 

ENDNOTES:

*For some time at Spanish camp, I felt very lonely and scared. Writing helped me a lot through these first couple of days. However, as time passed, I made some friends, had a little fun, practiced a LOT of Spanish, and learned not only Spanish but also the how-to to overcoming social anxiety and my insecurities. Hence, my need to write diminished, and I also threw myself into many activities, with the end result being that I ended up with less time to write. Therefore, you don’t get to see to many of my “happy” moments in this post; all you get to see for now is a rant. Sorry, guys.*

*Starting with a line from a song/poem has always been my way of overcoming “writer’s block,” hence all the song lyrics in blockquotes.*

*These were originally just random scribbles instead of a “diary”, and I did not want to edit anything; therefore, it is rather rough, with numerous errors. Also, I never felt the need to filter anything; therefore, I jotted down some things that were not actually serious thoughts/feelings.*

*The “gay guy” actually wasn’t gay; his sexual orientation was just an (un)educated guess by one of my best friends at camp. But anyway, you can probably imagine her facial expression when he told her the name of his girlfriend.*

*”Winnie” (no real names) was just a generally oblivious & passive person, and was bothering literally all of us by leaving things around (e.g. somehow she got her sheets on the floor, & the mess tripped me over) and borrowing literally everything from other people. What pissed me off even more was how she had an entire backpack of makeup and didn’t have even the essentials like insect repellent & sunscreen. To make things worse, she was on the top bunk next to me. The situation eventually got so annoying that I chewed her out. She literally cried for an entire night & was pissed for the rest of camp. Good riddance that I don’t have to see the bitch anymore.*

An Unlikely Mashup

Beautiful girls all over the world
I could be chasing but my time would be wasted
They got nothin’ on you baby
Nothin’ on you baby
They might say hi and I might say
Hey soul sister, I don’t wanna miss a single thing you do…
Tonight, we are young.
We’re gonna
Set fire to the rain,
Watch it pour as I touch your face,
Well, it burned while I cried
‘Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name.
 When laying with you
I could stay there
Close my eyes
Feel you here forever
You and me together
Nothing gets
I didn’t know I was lonely
’til I tasted you
Don’t need no butterflies when you give me the whole damn zoo
By the way, by the way, you do things to my body
I didn’t know that I was starving
So
Say my name, say my name
‘Cause
My youth, my youth is yours
Trippin’ on skies, sippin’ waterfalls
My youth, my youth is yours
Runaway now and forevermore
My youth, my youth is yours
A truth so loud you can’t ignore
My youth, my youth, my youth
My youth is yours
What if, what if we start to
Drive away from all the mess you made
You sent this hurricane now it won’t go away
‘Cause you came in like a
All that you been, you been waiting for
In the daylight,
we’ll be on our own
But

Not enough rooms in this house
To hold all the treasures we found
Evidence of us all around
Your fingerprints all over who I am now
We wished on these stars, they were ours
They remind me of you
I’m still letting you go
Don’t let me go, don’t let me go
Won’t let you go, don’t let me go.