Emotional Trainwreck
Jan 1, 2013 15:14:27 GMT -5
Post by Scout Castien on Jan 1, 2013 15:14:27 GMT -5
I've never done this before. Writing in a journal. It feels kind of pointless, to me, but I've been told it can help. Sometimes, when you pour your emotions into the pages, it can lessen the pain. I sure hope it's true, because it isn't only my own burdens I carry.
It really, really sucks I shouldn't write things like that.
I know- or I've heard- a lot of people, they put dates on their entries. I guess it's to help with memory, to remind you of the day that something happened, but I don't want to remember. I don't even know if I'll read back through any of this, or if anyone will read it after the ink dries. (That sounds kind of poetic. I wonder if everyone ends up sounding a bit poetic when they write in these little hardback books.) Maybe the Doc will. I might hand it over to him- it's not like I'm hiding anything. As much as I hate it, I gotta pour my everything out to him, just to be able to sort my emotions from their emotions.
Most people these days keep blogs, but I'm pretty sure I shouldn't showcase this stuff. People already think I'm weird. I don't need to solidify that with my senseless rants about how much this just sucks. Why couldn't I be normal? I was popular. I was a grade past where I should have been, I had great friends, I was a cheerleader...and it's all gone now. And yeah, it's not really me to get angry....but I can't help it. I just hate myself sometimes...sometimes, I hate my parents. Sometimes, I hate God- and sometimes, I wonder if God even exists. Maybe He does, and this is my punishment for being pansexual. Ugh, who even knows?
God, I sound so freaking pathetic. Pity party over here, I guess. People do have it worse than me. I'm just a freak who feels too much. Sometimes, I look at these scars...and they're pale, but they're there. What if I had managed it? How bad would that have been? I don't want to try again, I mean, I get sad, but it's never that horrible. Never that crushing. But maybe it would've been better. I would've died believing I was normal, after all. Heartbreak over the loss of my best friend. It just turns out that I was taking on everyone else's grief. I don't even know if I've taken the time to really come to terms with my own...But it was so long ago, all that's left from that is an ache.
And now I'm crying again. Doc said it's not bad to cry, but holy hell, you'd think that I had cried all of the tears I ever could. I cry every night at the very least...I guess it comes with the territory. I encounter someone every day who's sad or hurt or....anything negative, really, and it's like... It's a stain on my soul. It's a small slice of pain through the scars across my heart. One day, there's gonna be a person whose emotions are the straw that breaks the camel's back...one day, I won't be able to take this anymore.
I don't want to think about that day.
I know- or I've heard- a lot of people, they put dates on their entries. I guess it's to help with memory, to remind you of the day that something happened, but I don't want to remember. I don't even know if I'll read back through any of this, or if anyone will read it after the ink dries. (That sounds kind of poetic. I wonder if everyone ends up sounding a bit poetic when they write in these little hardback books.) Maybe the Doc will. I might hand it over to him- it's not like I'm hiding anything. As much as I hate it, I gotta pour my everything out to him, just to be able to sort my emotions from their emotions.
Most people these days keep blogs, but I'm pretty sure I shouldn't showcase this stuff. People already think I'm weird. I don't need to solidify that with my senseless rants about how much this just sucks. Why couldn't I be normal? I was popular. I was a grade past where I should have been, I had great friends, I was a cheerleader...and it's all gone now. And yeah, it's not really me to get angry....but I can't help it. I just hate myself sometimes...sometimes, I hate my parents. Sometimes, I hate God- and sometimes, I wonder if God even exists. Maybe He does, and this is my punishment for being pansexual. Ugh, who even knows?
God, I sound so freaking pathetic. Pity party over here, I guess. People do have it worse than me. I'm just a freak who feels too much. Sometimes, I look at these scars...and they're pale, but they're there. What if I had managed it? How bad would that have been? I don't want to try again, I mean, I get sad, but it's never that horrible. Never that crushing. But maybe it would've been better. I would've died believing I was normal, after all. Heartbreak over the loss of my best friend. It just turns out that I was taking on everyone else's grief. I don't even know if I've taken the time to really come to terms with my own...But it was so long ago, all that's left from that is an ache.
And now I'm crying again. Doc said it's not bad to cry, but holy hell, you'd think that I had cried all of the tears I ever could. I cry every night at the very least...I guess it comes with the territory. I encounter someone every day who's sad or hurt or....anything negative, really, and it's like... It's a stain on my soul. It's a small slice of pain through the scars across my heart. One day, there's gonna be a person whose emotions are the straw that breaks the camel's back...one day, I won't be able to take this anymore.
I don't want to think about that day.
