I’m a pretty difficult person to impress.
I find a lot of things mundane. If I already know something but someone else is excited about it, I shrug. Yeah I’ve heard/read/seen that before.
If I get shown some art or someone plays me a song by some band, most of the time I’ll think it’s interesting or nice and I’d say like “yeah I like it” or if I don’t, “nah doesn’t suit me”. With art and music, I need something that really stands out to me. And I can’t determine when something will stand out to me. It just happens unexpectedly.
Books, more or less if I finish reading it, I’ll have an opinion on it. I rarely find a book I don’t like once I’ve finished reading it.
And then I’ll get totally stoked about something that interests nobody.
I saw a squirrel in the parking lot today!
There was this cool plant, it was all white and fuzzy and it looked like it was covered in snow.
I found a book today and it has a really neat cover!
And it’s like, great that some people can get really excited about all kinds of different things and feel so passionate about them, but with me, it usually isn’t like that.
I’m drawn to nature. I’ve always been drawn to nature. I’m like the passive equivalent of a tree-hugging hippy. No, I’m not a nature activist, and I don’t think I will be. But I notice nature, and it matters more to me than people.
I’m probably going to be more impressed with a tree that’s burnt due to having been struck by lightning than I will be with, say, certain Picasso paintings.
It’s the same with people too. Then again, I’m pretty antisocial, so maybe this wouldn’t count as much.
With appearance, most “hot” guys I could take or leave (and by take or leave I mean see a picture and go “eh”).
Or people I meet. Most I can take or leave. Few people I actually find engaging or impressive in any way. Most people I meet are interesting in some way, but few actually capture my interest. If that makes sense. I don’t mean in a romantic or sexual sense, I mean in like, an intellectual sense, I suppose.
Still, people overall matter to me very little compared to animals and nature. And despite our climb to the most intelligent species, animals really have so many advantages over us. Which I find really fascinating.
Can a human run seventy miles an hour? Of course not. Any cheetah would leave Usain Bolt in the dust. Fleas can jump higher than a human of equivalent size, tardigrades can survive better than any other creature known to man, and the list goes on. How fucking cool is that? You can be stoked about the VMAs or whatever, but I’m over here reading about creatures that can grow back their own limbs.
It’s just impressive, is all. Nature I mean. And there’s no doubt in my mind that it’ll be the last one to laugh when everything ends. So I’m in awe of it.
I want my epitaph to say “Resurgam”. With an ankh engraved underneath it. My name and birth/death date will be at the top. And in teeeeeeeeeny font, in a corner maybe ‘starwake’.
I couldn’t sleep last night because I kept thinking about carving my back out with a razor and feeling the pain of the wounds as I slept on my back.
I kept sobbing for reasons unknown and I woke up feeling awful.
I don’t want to hurt myself but I keep thinking about it.
The thing is I spend a considerable amount of time in my own head, trapped by my own thoughts and feelings, which accumulate the more I think of them, and it’s basically really hard to get me out of there.
Some days I literally feel like I’m going insane. That I’m losing it. That I don’t make sense no matter how many times I try to reword what I’m thinking. I feel as if my thoughts aren’t linear, they’re a maze of things with dead ends here and there and a clear way out in some ways.
No one has affirmed that I’m not crazy, so there’s little to get in my way of thinking that I am.
Okay maybe we’re all crazy in our own ways. It still doesn’t outlaw the notion that I’m possibly losing my mind.
I don’t know what my life is anymore. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not sure what I want. I’m tempted to walk and walk and walk until I fall over. I’m tempted to overdose just to see if I actually would. I’m tempted to throw empty bottles at walls and I’m tempted to scream bloody murder and I’m tempted to throw myself off a cliff. I’m tempted to steal a car, I’m tempted to shoot myself, I’m tempted to try anything reckless just to find some better purpose. I’d welcome a mugger if it meant I can regain some of my own humanity and not feel like destroying myself.
I hate having people expect things of me. I want to leave and never return. I want to be something else, somewhere else. I’m sick of feeling scared, feeling like killing myself is the only way I’ll ever reach peace.
I want to be free from my burdens and yet I feel crushed by everything.
I had a dream last night where someone was trying to kill me.
He looked like a bulkier and unfriendly Hank Green. I’d grabbed a phone, dialed 911 as he watched me, grinning, holding a knife. I glimpsed Mads Mikkelsen/Hannibal, and then my cat had landed on me and woke me up. It was only once I woke up that I felt scared, had my heart beating wildly.
I’ve had so many dreams, and most of them are really vivid. Sometimes I forget them, but then something triggers the memory and I remember what I saw.
I don’t think it was last night, but the night before I was in this huge courtyard, and it was like, white marble, but there was water all over the surface so it shone like a mirror, and there was a large white building against the brilliant blue sky, and around me, the water was deep enough to be a pool, and there were people having fun swimming with each other and with bottlenose dolphins. The most distinct thing about that dream was that the sky was this brilliant blue. Most of my dreams take place either at night, indoors to where I can’t tell the weather, during or after rain, or with a white/gray sky. I only recall one other dream where it was sunny, and even then there were raindrops on the plants.
Especially after a night where I dream vividly, I have an off day. I keep thinking back to it because it was so vivid, and then the feeling that I’m still dreaming lingers on me, and I feel like I’m not even real.
I hate these off days. My mind doesn’t even leave me alone when I sleep.
Having kind of a bad day I guess.
Thinking of things that once made me happy make me feel so much worse now.
I was holding a letter opener and I was so tempted to cut myself. I cut my hair instead. I have so much hair, no one will probably notice I did anything. I blend in like that, I don’t stand out.
I’m just playing movie after movie as I try to do something. I read several chapters of The Book Thief. I read another chapter of The Man Who Quit Money and I also checked out Suelo’s blog. I looked at job listings. I played with Evey. I wrote. I put up landscape pictures cut out of an expired calender on my wall. I ate. I showered. I read part of an essay my teacher sent to us to read. I read over emails from a professor to figure out what to do for that class. I caught up on YouTube subscriptions. I played Candy Crush (fuck that game I just managed to get past level 30 this morning and now i’m stuck on 33). I tried playing Mrs. Robinson, Brother Can You Spare a Dime and Love Illumination on my guitar. I looked up group therapy or animal therapy online but didn’t find any that fit my needs. I threw Wreck This Journal at my wall a few times.
I did all these things today and I feel so upset and uptight and hurt.
I have school tomorrow so at least that will distract me. But hell, I’m reeling here. I’m walking in circles, I’m antsy, I’m trying not to cry, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t feel suicidal, I just feel bad.
Apologies are so fucking devoid of meaning after being repeated so many times.
Sure some people can’t help doing that, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to accept it as any more meaningful than saying “cabbage” over and over.
And it just keeps going on, and endless stream of “I’m sorry” and I have no desire to accept it because it’s only a repeated recording of the same words being felt on the same tongue, a reflex reaction.
The action of saying the word doesn’t negate the hurt and the pain. A statement isn’t valid unless there’s some intentional thought and feeling behind it. Apologies are wasted on me for the most part because I’m going to find the hurt intentional most of the time. Accidentally stepping on my toe is one thing. Pushing me away is another.
Of course I can’t always have my guard up when people directly say things to me in order to incite a reaction. I leave my guard down because of trust. I put it back up when that trust is ignored.
It’s always people. I’m so tired of people. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me more than enough times and I’m going to stop trying.
I’m done. Done believing what people say to me. Done trusting. Done being manipulated by my own feelings because others hurt them. These aren’t empty words. I’m so fucking finished.
I feel like I’ve been discarded way too often is all. Like I’m only good temporarily. A toy, forgotten. That’s how I view myself.
I like making people feel awful for making me feel awful. I relish in schadenfreude sometimes.
And then I feel guilty.
And then I don’t.
And it keeps going and going. On and off.
I hate this.
I’m actually really sick and tired of people telling me that I’m a strong person.
Like, I’m actually really hating it right about now.
Like the whole “you’re so strong and you’ve made it this far you can make it through” kind of thing.
I mean I’m thankful for the support but I’m sick and tired of being told by people that I’m strong.
I’ve been told this for a while now and it’s like uh what’s that supposed to prove? I’m strong so this suffering I’m feeling is going to go away. Well most suffering eventually leaves. That’s a given. It goes on. I know that. It WILL get better EVENTUALLY.
To tell me to be strong because it’ll eventually get better is stupid. Wether I’m weak or strong or average, it’s going to change. Things may improve. But things may not improve. Maybe they’ll get worse. You can’t fucking tell whether things are going to get better or worse.
And people tell me to be strong.
As if my life depends on whether I’m strong or not.
It’s been driven into my mind that I’m strong no matter what but hell, I’m no stronger than anyone else. We’re all fucking strong in our own ways, why is it that when I’m upset, when I’m in pain and misery, I get told that I’m strong?! How about saying “you’re hurt, it happens”? Or “you don’t deserve the pain you’re feeling”?
Telling me I’m strong does nothing to me. It’s really annoying now. I have to be strong and put up with my mom who yells at me, I have to be strong and put up with being suicidal, I have to be strong and do homework that’s giving me migraines and stressing me out beyond my control, it’s been going on for fucking years and I’m just tired of it.
People getting upset at me because I don’t tell them what’s been going on with my life because I’m trying to handle it myself well fuck, maybe it’d help if I told people in my home life once in a while about my troubles, but then I’d just be spewing complaint after complaint and acting like a person I don’t want to be. I try to handle things myself because I feel like I don’t have much other choice. Which is wrong, I know, because of course I could tell my parents if I felt like it. But no one realizes how difficult it is for me to open my mouth and actually tell someone something. Because even if I tell them, it doesn’t really help much. No one’s going to crush the pain in me and replace it with happiness, no one’s going to chase my sadness away. For the moment it may quell but then after some time it just happens all over again.
Suggestion after suggestion is nice and all, but I already know that I’m the only one who can help myself and maybe everyone else knows it too. They try anyway. And I try too. To relate to people. But when I look at people on the street, most of the time I feel like I’m a completely different species. Even with some people I know, I feel like I’m in another world.
I have trouble listening to other people. It’s like they say something, and physically I’m listening, but my mind’s not actually listening to their words, it’s thinking of something else, it’s noticing something else, it’s ignoring what they’re saying. I wish I was better, more focused, on what people try to tell me, but i’m so selfish that it flies by me a lot of the time. I’m sure it’s not ADD because when I’m focused on something, I can focus.
So many times though I feel misunderstood, ignored, not worth people’s time because I’m too difficult to understand. Hell, I don’t even understand myself. I’m constantly switching moods. One moment I’m into serial killers and human experimentation and reading as much about them as I could, the next I’m immersed in forests and trees and Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. One day I’m wearing flower pins and dresses, the next I’m in jeans and a t-shirt and hoodies. I’m happy and giggly one moment, quiet and solitary the next. I’ll laugh at a dirty joke at one point and start crying hysterically at another.
I mean, everyone has mood swings, but come on. This is ridiculous.
And of course most people don’t see me and get that as an impression. It’s not a dramatic leap from one mood to another. It’s largely internal. The switch is in my mind, not in my act. Usually, anyway. It’s been more unstable as of late.
Largely, I’m never the person I wish to be. I don’t want to be a crybaby but I am. I’m overdramatic sometimes, I can be really mean if I so wished, I’m a pushover, I’m too quiet, I’m not as intelligent as I wished I was, I’m guilty of a lot of self-pity (which I bathe in quite regularly), I blame myself rather than others when I should probably blame others instead of myself, I can’t lie well, I’m always hiding my pain even though I want to be comforted most of the time, etc. etc.
I have a lot of problems.
And I talk about all these problems when I’m upset.
Which, upset in my case means sad, in pain, panicky, stressed. Not mad. I don’t get mad that often. Which is probably another problem of mine. I don’t let out anger, I suppress it, keep it shut tight in a box until it starts to fill up, and then I let it slip a bit, and then I feel guilty.
A lot of the time I wish someone would beat me up. Just like, punch me in the face, make me mad so I fight back, and then praise me for it, like “Yeah you’re still alright. Come on let’s go hunt some orc.”
All I get is “it’s okay things will look up” and “you’ve gotta move on” and “wash the dishes” or “get a job”. Which I either grudgingly do or ignore or nod and just go “yeah okay”. Because what do I have to lose?
It’s not that I don’t like that people are at least trying to help. I’m glad people care about me. But sometimes it’s a burden to have people care about you, which is stupid because there’s a lot of people out there who don’t get as much care as they should. But I’m a self-absorbed asshole. So I sometimes just wish I could do what I wanted without being asked what I was up to. I mean that would make suicide easier.
Help! I need somebody. Help! Not just anybody. Help! You know I need someone. Help!
Is pretty much resonating in my head. It’s pathetic. I feel pathetic. So pathetic I’m mad that I’m so pathetic. I’m caught in self-loathing and loathing of everything and fuck I hate people so much.
People, as a whole, suck. I hate people. I mean we may be the most intelligent species on Earth but we’re one of the most stupid too. Fuck. I hate people. Including myself. I hate that I am human. I hate it. I write about fantasy creatures and races other than human because I hate people. People are stupid. Another reason I don’t want to live. I hate being the person that I am. I hate being a person. Do you know how that feels? It feels really fucking crazy. And frustrating.