Specific

What am I doing. I’m screwing everything up. This is based on the daily prompt but I didn’t even link it. Specific doesn’t exist. It’s all just a general outline. You want specifics? Specifics fall through the cracks in your fingers like tiny grains of sand. I want to run away from everything. I hate math. I don’t know what I’m doing. I love journalism and political science, but I’m not going to make it. Animal science comes just as easily. Animals hate me. I want to run away. I want to be at the beach. I want to be doing boardsports on the water without a care in the world. I want to be far away. I want to see my best friend again. I haven’t seen him in a year and it’s killing me.

I may have made a mistake when I walked away from that awful competition math program. I found the math section on the SAT easy then. Land grant universities were for idiots who couldn’t make it in anywhere else. Now I don’t know if I’ll get a high enough SAT score. I could have a panic attack again and not be able to make it through. I couldn’t breathe last time but just told myself I was sick. I wasn’t sick, I was fine. I want to go to the land grant university. It feels like home. I’m stuck in my habits and to go anywhere else just won’t work.

I’m writing this because I can’t write. I have a paper to write and I can’t think and so I need to get rid of some thoughts. I feel like crying because I’m overwhelmed. I stopped writing for a while and that was a mistake. Writing keeps me sane. That’s why I wanted to be a journalist. I’m too liberal for my family. They’re all conservative and think democrats are killing the planet. If I tell them something is wrong they do it even more just to bother me.

I don’t know if I’ll make it. My head hurts. The only times I stop worrying about the future are when I tell myself it’s pointless because I’ll be dead by then; either by suicide or natural causes. I’m a teenager and have varicose veins. I hate this. I hardly ever see the people I want to, and I only want to be around them because I don’t know how terrible they are yet. All people are terrible. I can’t trust anyone. The more I trust the more I hurt. I don’t want to hurt people, but I probably already have.

There are probably people out there who hate me. I hate myself sometimes. I made a girl cry one day when I was really upset and sitting against the gate at the midway of the fairgrounds because my mom told me to basically sit in time out because I was crying about how I didn’t get one of the big prizes and wanted to go back. She looked like she was barely five, and she walked over and asked if I was lost, and I screamed “NO LEAVE ME ALONE!” and stormed away like the monster I was. I turned back around for half a second, and saw the tears welling up in her eyes. This happened five years ago, and I still feel awful about it. Wherever she is, I just wish there was a way I could tell her I’m sorry.

She probably doesn’t even remember. The whole thing lasted only a moment, yet here I am, writing about it five years later with tears in my eyes. There is something wrong with me. I can’t do anything right, yet people compliment me on my leadership skills. I die just a little inside every time someone tells me they look up to me because they aspire to be someone who is an emotional train wreck. I’m not okay, never have been, never will be.

I still don’t know what to write for this stupid easy. I’ve been doing almost a half hour of stream of consciousness, but the words keep coming. It’s like there’s been a dam blocking my thoughts and now it’s gone so there’s a flood.

My cousin is awful. My ex best friend is awful too. He won’t be at the meeting tomorrow. He shouldn’t be the treasurer. Maybe he’ll do what one of my other friends did and disappear as soon as he turns 18. If so, I only have a few more weeks to wait. I hate him. He’s even worse than the average person and just keeps going downhill. I can’t deal with people like that anymore. I’m done with everything. I’m done. I’M DONE. Done pretending that I can handle it because I CAN’T. I feel like I’m dying.

I’m probably going to live, but that’s not good. If I can find all these things wrong with the world, then maybe the problem lies in me. My head is a dark place, and I just want to crawl into it and hide. I hate eating. It stops me from being able to fade away. I just want to be small and hide in the shadows, but when I do I just want to go farther and the depression increases exponentially. I’m really not okay. I don’t know what to say anymore but I feel like I should keep typing. Usually I have some major epiphany after writing on here, but right now I’m just feeling even worse than when I started. I’m going to try to type, and then I might come back.

 

90 minutes later…

Thanks for reading. The paper is finally done, my head is clear, and I’m feeling a lot better. šŸ™‚

 

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