May 2018
Dear 2020,
I never want to leave my room again. I’ve gotten lazy in a way that is extremely difficult to describe. Taking a shower, eating food, leaving my room, going to school, getting up in the morning, putting on clothes, talking to people, it’s all gotten much harder than it was last week.
All these ****** meds, all the ****** appointments, and I’m just getting worse. I saw Machaela this weekend. It was great, amazing really, but leaving has made it all bad again.
I’ve gotten really bad about expressing my feelings. I don’t show them at all sometimes. Sometimes I hold them in until one tiny thing makes them all crash down. But mostly, I just pretend they aren’t there at all.
Just like how, right now, I quite angry about the fact that I am constantly feeling bad, depressed, down, and don’t get more attention about it from others. People are always doting on people like Elijah, who shows his feelings of depression OBNOXIOUSLY loud and stubbornly, and no one seems to care how I feel, even my Mom because I don’t show my feelings the way normal people do. But, do I do anything the way normal people do? Not anymore. Not anymore.
I’m so boring. I literally do nothing interesting on my computer anymore. Nothing that could start a conversation. I mean, I start conversations about the things I used to do on my computer, but not the things I do now. I mean, does anyone really want to hear about how I listen to lo-fi hip-hop, write to you, look up reasons not to **** myself, and on very ultra rare occasion- take a typing test or write a chapter in my book?
I’ve gotten angrier lately. Not in public, of course. Most of my friends can’t even imagine me being angry. Because before now, the only reason I was angry was my Dad. Now, I’m angry about everything. I’m trapped in this world that I hate, everyone is trapped here, and there’s no way to free myself that doesn’t have a chance of hurting one of the few people I care about more than this terrible world already has.
I hate this world. It lies. It seems beautiful and peaceful and tranquil, but this world is lying to you. It is horrible and I hate it and I want to leave and I don’t even know if I’m even angry but I want to complain because I’m hurting on the inside like that baby bunny who was crushed underneath the barrel by the dogs and died from injuries on the inside of its body. The bunny is me, and no matter how alive we may look, we are dying and we know it and you might as well just look away. Because I didn’t even have the respect for that bunny to watch it die, and no one here is having the respect for me to watch me die. They are all turning, they are all turning their backs on me.
I actually. I don’t know what I’m yelling about. I told you that I wrote a chapter of my book, but I doubt I will be able to do so again. And ever since I stopped being able to draw I’ve just started hating everything I ever drew or that has any art on it at all. I want all of that stuff to go away, stop reminding me of how I used to have two things I was good at.
At this point I’m honestly hoping you are dead and someone else is reading this. Because no matter how many “why not to **** yourself”s I read, scars I leave, tears I shed, Meals I skip, no matter how many times I try to do what I used to do with ease, It doesnt cease rthe PAIN THAT i FEEL ON THE INSIDE LIKE THE BUNNY AND i’M SCREAMING TO YOU IN CAPS BECAUSE I SCREAM AT MY SELF IN MY MIND AND I WANT TO DIE AND I WANT TO DIE AND I SAY THAT EVERY ******* DAY i SWEAR I DO BUT IT DOESNT HELP I WANT TO DIE EVERRY DAY FOR AS LONG AS I CAN REMEMBER AND NOTHING HELPS JUST **** ME P[LEASE I DONT CARE IF I HURT THE FEW PEOPLE I HURT YOU won't FIND MY BODY ILL **** MYSELF IN THE PLACE THAT WAS MY HAPPY SPACE WITH HER BEFORE SHE HATED ME AND Befor e my DEPRESSION AND MY ******* ANXIETY AND MY ******* ANOREXIA TOOK OVER AND I CANT ENJOY EVERYTHING YOU won't FIND ME THERE BECAUSE THAT WAS ONE SECRET I KEPT5drsy i,uers7ujojw3lki8wiuirweuijweruhjkrewhureDSFWJKDWQUFEWQOUBWQKBJWQBKFWQBUFSCQBEHKWCKUBSEUOQBTGVO3NFDBIG73QUHJDSNLI3BGUJRBHT4ILWFEQKHDUILREHNFSDKJ
I never want to leave my room again. I’ve gotten lazy in a way that is extremely difficult to describe. Taking a shower, eating food, leaving my room, going to school, getting up in the morning, putting on clothes, talking to people, it’s all gotten much harder than it was last week.
All these ****** meds, all the ****** appointments, and I’m just getting worse. I saw Machaela this weekend. It was great, amazing really, but leaving has made it all bad again.
I’ve gotten really bad about expressing my feelings. I don’t show them at all sometimes. Sometimes I hold them in until one tiny thing makes them all crash down. But mostly, I just pretend they aren’t there at all.
Just like how, right now, I quite angry about the fact that I am constantly feeling bad, depressed, down, and don’t get more attention about it from others. People are always doting on people like Elijah, who shows his feelings of depression OBNOXIOUSLY loud and stubbornly, and no one seems to care how I feel, even my Mom because I don’t show my feelings the way normal people do. But, do I do anything the way normal people do? Not anymore. Not anymore.
I’m so boring. I literally do nothing interesting on my computer anymore. Nothing that could start a conversation. I mean, I start conversations about the things I used to do on my computer, but not the things I do now. I mean, does anyone really want to hear about how I listen to lo-fi hip-hop, write to you, look up reasons not to **** myself, and on very ultra rare occasion- take a typing test or write a chapter in my book?
I’ve gotten angrier lately. Not in public, of course. Most of my friends can’t even imagine me being angry. Because before now, the only reason I was angry was my Dad. Now, I’m angry about everything. I’m trapped in this world that I hate, everyone is trapped here, and there’s no way to free myself that doesn’t have a chance of hurting one of the few people I care about more than this terrible world already has.
I hate this world. It lies. It seems beautiful and peaceful and tranquil, but this world is lying to you. It is horrible and I hate it and I want to leave and I don’t even know if I’m even angry but I want to complain because I’m hurting on the inside like that baby bunny who was crushed underneath the barrel by the dogs and died from injuries on the inside of its body. The bunny is me, and no matter how alive we may look, we are dying and we know it and you might as well just look away. Because I didn’t even have the respect for that bunny to watch it die, and no one here is having the respect for me to watch me die. They are all turning, they are all turning their backs on me.
I actually. I don’t know what I’m yelling about. I told you that I wrote a chapter of my book, but I doubt I will be able to do so again. And ever since I stopped being able to draw I’ve just started hating everything I ever drew or that has any art on it at all. I want all of that stuff to go away, stop reminding me of how I used to have two things I was good at.
At this point I’m honestly hoping you are dead and someone else is reading this. Because no matter how many “why not to **** yourself”s I read, scars I leave, tears I shed, Meals I skip, no matter how many times I try to do what I used to do with ease, It doesnt cease rthe PAIN THAT i FEEL ON THE INSIDE LIKE THE BUNNY AND i’M SCREAMING TO YOU IN CAPS BECAUSE I SCREAM AT MY SELF IN MY MIND AND I WANT TO DIE AND I WANT TO DIE AND I SAY THAT EVERY ******* DAY i SWEAR I DO BUT IT DOESNT HELP I WANT TO DIE EVERRY DAY FOR AS LONG AS I CAN REMEMBER AND NOTHING HELPS JUST **** ME P[LEASE I DONT CARE IF I HURT THE FEW PEOPLE I HURT YOU won't FIND MY BODY ILL **** MYSELF IN THE PLACE THAT WAS MY HAPPY SPACE WITH HER BEFORE SHE HATED ME AND Befor e my DEPRESSION AND MY ******* ANXIETY AND MY ******* ANOREXIA TOOK OVER AND I CANT ENJOY EVERYTHING YOU won't FIND ME THERE BECAUSE THAT WAS ONE SECRET I KEPT5drsy i,uers7ujojw3lki8wiuirweuijweruhjkrewhureDSFWJKDWQUFEWQOUBWQKBJWQBKFWQBUFSCQBEHKWCKUBSEUOQBTGVO3NFDBIG73QUHJDSNLI3BGUJRBHT4ILWFEQKHDUILREHNFSDKJ
I don't like the way that this poem ends, but I don't like the mood I was in when I wrote this poem either
