I am alone. I don’t love anyone. Hardly anyone loves me. My father. Sometimes I think my mother loves me too. But then I reconsider. That’s the list. I could die and it would hardly be noticeable. Again, only my parents would feel the difference. I lead such a quiet life; it has no impact on anyone. Imagine that.
It’s like…I’m a ghost. I’m the girl that always sits in the front of the classroom, always gets picked last in gym class, always…always follows a pattern, sticks to a routine, fits into a mold.
I can’t study. I just can’t. And I feel useless; like a failure. Like…I’m postponing my life or something, just because it’s not going to be pretty or pleasant. Yeah. But I realize that nothing is going to change. I won’t wake up and suddenly feel motivated. I’m just delaying the inevitable.
Sometimes it feels like I’m waiting for life to catch up.
Mostly it feels like I’m hoping that death will.
I’m functioning, just barely. I sleep, I eat, I shower, I talk, I walk up and down the stairs to get a glass of water. I even shop. It’s just that I don’t really care for any of it.
There’s something to be said about going through life with nothing to lose; nothing you value or no one you love. There’s no fear of death. The only thing to be scared of is pain.
And there’s always someone trying to convince you that you just have to be patient, a little more, a little longer, because your happiness is just around the corner. And you wait and wait and you hope and you do it again and again and again and again and again, and you hold on to your desperate waiting and you try and try and try and it never makes a fucking difference.
God, these entries are going to be so popular after I drive off a cliff.
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