#sickofcrying
You...
Are still in a relationship.
I have never been in one.
You... are travelling to Costa Rica.
I went to France a million years ago.
With..
YOU...
Are still subscribed to my YouTube channel.
And I have no idea why.
For all I know, you're only subscribed because you don't go on YouTube all that often...
Therefore... you've forgotten.
I don't blame you.
I'd like to forget me too.
I... am lonely.
You.. not so much or at least it seems that way..
I... am blind to my own pain.
You... are probably the same way.
You... still keep certain people as friends on social media despite how things ended.
I... don't even have Facebook.
Or Twitter.
Or Snapchat.
Or anything that would make me any "Friend" of yours.
You have no idea what's happened to me.
And vice versa.
You... have changed your hair for the hundredth time.
I have cut my hair for the first time in months.
I... have no idea what I'm doing.
And you are going to be set to be a history buff.
Funny thing... history huh?
How you will go on to study world history.
While I fall apart over our history.
What a mystery, the inconsistency of our lives right?
Because we weren't supposed to be friends.
I was never supposed to send you songs.
I haven't in 7 months give or take.
I cannot bare the weight of an unwanted conversation.
I have been told not to worry about hurting people.
But I don't worry about things I have already done.
So congratulations, you got out while you could.
And I deserve it.
On any other day, I would asked you to be alone with me.
But tonight.
I'll just be here.
And yet...
I wish we could talk about something else...
Like music.
I'm no longer one of your favourite artists.
Okay.
I'm glad we still have something in common.
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 3:45 AM UTC
I've always said that I wouldn't mind being in a coma.
Because the world wouldn't have to worry about me so much.
Now truthfully, most of the world has no idea who I am, so the world doesn't have much of a reason to worry, but still...
The small percentage of people who do know me, would be so worried all the time.
I would always be in one place.
The hospital.
I would always stay in the same position, and have the same reaction to everything.
Good news, bad news, no news at all.
And yet...
A coma for me is just a cover up.
I wouldn't want this to serve as an excuse for someone to visit me out of guilt.
And I would be able to respond if they told me they were sorry.
It kills me to know, that beyond being a limp body, I'm also a lost soul.
But even as I am here now, awake.
I feel closer to dead than anyone can ever know.
Only because I finally lost it.
And by "it" I only mean... me?
Like I was put on this planet just to hurt people, and I sure did...
I sure... did.
This feeling..
Of having people around, but still feeling like the most truthful thing to say is "I have no one left".
I can say it, and it still feels true.
I never wanted to hurt anyone.
So maybe people would finally feel guilty for leaving me if they just saw me close to "drifting to sleep".
Breathing harder, and feeling my T-shirt suffocating me.
And then feeling the vice grip of my sins wrap around my neck.
And I can't take it any more.
Sins...
Sounds too biblical and cliché right?
I'm tired of fighting to live well.
I'm tired.
Let me sleep.
Or induce a coma.
And put this whole thing to rest.
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 2:03 AM UTC
The three poems I have made private here are all about you.
It seems like everything about my opinion of you is some kind of private matter.
Honestly...
I still care about you.
I think you're amazing.
Maybe I still love you.
But not in the same way I used to.
I'm sorry I'm not worth all that much nowadays.
I just wanted you to know that I'm going into therapy soon.
Getting help.
After all.
You said I needed to "sort myself out".
Okay.
I've been through a lot of things that shouldn't have happened to good people like us.
Or maybe I was never that good person.
Who am I kidding?
You're not reading this.
Last time you did, things went wrong and now all those poems are private.
So.
I can't even muster up any courage to say "hi" in any situation.
So I won't.
Makes things easier.
Okay.
Sorry I didn't try harder.
Sorry I wasn't there.
Sorry I called you late at night.
Sorry I still remember the circus.
Sorry I still want to send you gifts for your birthday and Christmas.
I...
Sorry I didn't say anything the right way or even at the right time.
Anyways... talk later?
Or never I guess.
You'll be busy.
And I have a therapy session to go to.
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 3:57 AM UTC
~September 2014~
They came to me with hair filled with colour.
We met.
We talked.
Friends.
Right...
I miss them a lot.
And the only thing I seem to remember is the shape of their hair and all the rainbow it contained, from blue, to pink, to red, to green, to blonde, to finally going back to the normal root colour.
You could say the hair had personality of its own.
~August 2015~
Summer camp.
She was a stranger and a musician, and I had to know her.
She was a strong soul, and even holding her hand felt like a superpower I couldn't control.
Short cut hair.
Clean.
Swept over her eyes, over her ears.
Framing her smile.
~December 2016~
Techie girl.
She is the most complicated thing to come from all of this.
The semester didn't treat either of us well.
Slight curl to dark short hair. Shaven around the back, kept remarkably short.
Leaving her face untouched.
~July 2017~
Me.
I've shaved my head twice.
No shame in it.
My dignity not what it used to be.
My hair hangs down past my shoulders.
4:40pm comes around and I've lost inches upon inches of my hair.
6:30pm.
Slightly bobbed at the ends, framing my chin and shoulders.
Changing my hair part again.
Moving from side to center.
Straight hair, dark colour, lighter.
Short.
I like the aesthetic.
And I like these people.
I miss them most days.
But even though I'm now a short haired person myself.
I still forget about it...
Only to find my reflection later.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 4:32 AM UTC
She was there.
7:25pm
I'm out with some friends., we find a spot on a hill, I know some of the people, I don't know some of the people.
I'm there having a good time. Trying to make conversation, not seeming like a complete loner loser.
I make due with what social skills I have left.
10:45pm
The fireworks have started, sparks of colour fill the sky and loud exploding noises fill my ears.
It's so dark out.
I watched the sunset not too long ago...
The sounds, the exploding bursts of shimmer and shine.
The fireworks are so vibrant, so alive...
I don't feel scared to die right now...
Maybe I should, but I don't.
11:30pm
I found my car and the parking lot is filled with people trying to get out. I grab a map and sit on the trunk of my car as I wait for an opening.
The night is calm if you don't pay mind to the drivers.
And I don't, I just stare at the map, searching for a way home.
12:30am
I made it home about 10 minutes ago and I'm not tired yet.
I make myself a cup of hot chocolate and sit at my computer watching episodes of an old sitcom from a time I didn't live in.
2:00am
I'm here.
Lying in my bed, next to nothing and no one.
It was only hours ago that I didn't feel so scared.
And now I'm here.
She wasn't there was she?
She couldn't have been...
If she was, I couldn't possibly have...
She was there.
She was.
Our paths just missed each other.
Never crossing.
Just hours ago, I was watching fireworks.
And now I'm here.
Watching the darkness.
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 6:32 AM UTC
I like to believe that I'm stronger than I am.
That I'm braver than I am.
And yet, I fall into cowardice like any other reflex built into my skin.
It's a program the world wanted to overwrite onto my story. Like I didn't have a choice about whether or not I wanted to be miserable.
And I want to be better.
Who doesn't?
I just... fall away. Like it's so easy to give in to what you've been exposed to. No matter how dangerous or vulnerable it makes you.
You just fall.
I drop into a broken conversation, it just ended with an "I'm sorry".
It feels so final.
Like the unsatisfying ending of a story you wish you could rewrite. Like you're in so much control, you'll do anything to keep that control within your grasp.
I didn't want this.
I didn't want the final result I got.
Nothing.
An open road, and being told to just go anywhere.
Anywhere but were you came from.
Leaving home, and not returning to the comfort of the arms that held up your body when it couldn't fight gravity, falling to the ground.
They pick you up like it's the only thing they were ever taught to do.
I wish I told them everything.
I wish I told them how much I could cry.
How it could make an ocean all on its own.
I wish I hugged them more.
Told them they were the best thing that ever happened to me.
Told them that I would drop everything to be there for them.
That I would write songs about them.
That I would write and write and write until we had no more jokes to laugh about.
So, I guess the writing and laughing would never stop.
I wish I said more.
I mean. I wish I said something.
I wish...
I wasn't so afraid of being here.
I was told to go back to them.
I wonder if they'd ever want me back.
After everything.
So how do I go about this sort of deja vu?
Being told that:
"Maybe one "Hello" will flip everything."
Maybe. But I haven't gotten there.
Not yet anyway.
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 1:29 AM UTC
It feels like a trial.
Like everyone knows you're guilty
And yet they still want to hear you defend yourself
Because they still want to know
For whatever reason
"Do you like your pain?", They ask.
"Yeah, I guess I do."
"So all of this... is what you want. Like you don't even want to get better."
"No."
"Why do you keep feeling sorry for yourself? You know it's not getting you anywhere."
"Yeah. I do know that. But I don't know how to get out of it."
"It's so easy."
"You can't possibly know how difficult this has been for me. For 4 months --"
*"Stop making excuses, whether or not you spent the last 4 months feeling like **** doesn't mean a **** thing. You did that all on your own. And yet you are refusing help."*
"Because I still believe I can do this myself."
"And how well has that worked?"
"Please stop."
"Should we call a witness?"
"NO. Please no. I'm begging you."
The whole court stares at me
The witnesses are in sight, waiting to place the blame on somebody...anybody
I can hear thunder outside the courthouse.
It's about time we had a storm.
**"Please don't call a witness.
I can tell you everything
And you'll know that it's true because nobody will object saying that I'm wrong. This isn't that kind of case.
But they do not need to answer for my crimes, nobody here does except for me. The person who committed those crimes. Justice... right?"**
I have told this story so many times
I might as well start crying again
I feel like the witnesses won't even defend me. I don't give them a reason to
I don't even say their names
Even if I keep someone anonymous
The truth will come out
And everyone will know
But it won't solve anything
And I will continue to feel like I'll never be happy
Because this trial... has changed my life
I guess it still is
Because it doesn't feel like I've even left the stand.
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 1:59 AM UTC
And as I'm walking to my car...
In a church parking lot.
With the rain pouring down and the sky dark...
I start to shout:
Hey it's RAINING!!
Do you know what we do when this happens?
Nobody answers.
I stretch my arms out and feel the cool air.
As if I was in another conversation I shout:
Because I believed she saved my life!!
Look at me, I'm hysterical!
I can't stop laughing.
I've cried so much that my pain is just... funny.
I get in my car and blast the music as I drive home.
The rain really coming down, so much that my sight is almost hazy.
And I fear that I might hydroplane my car into oblivion.
But as I drive smoothly, I start to feel a sense of peace.
And I didn't care if I was about to die or not.
"Hey God, if I die right now... I think I'm okay."
And then I proceed to hit a bump and scare myself into driving again...
Not my smartest moment.
But I do eventually make it home.
I turn off the car and just watch the rain hit the windshield.
Watching the droplets fill the windows and blur the scene.
And I think to myself:
How did I get here in my life?
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 1:48 AM UTC
I'll say it once and once only, because if I've said it once, I've said it too many times:
Karma is a *****
And no, I guess I haven't suffered enough according to the rest of the universe. And I'm free game for people to line up and just hit me over and over. It would hurt less than this.
And the timing of my karma has to be the most rigged thing in my life. It's like the world has it out for me. Everybody is staring and whispering about it. They all know.
I mean, I know they don't, but I can't help but get lost in this way of thinking. It's not worth it.
I stayed up until 2 or 3 in the morning just crying. Listening to the same songs and staring up at the ceiling. My physical body trying to reject itself. Like I'm imploding. My vision blurry, wanting to scream but nothing happens.
I don't want this.
There's nothing that can even be done to even attempt to save this. So I'm done.
I'm done.
The emotions run on highs and lows. But lately I feel like I'm burning below ground with the flames of hellfire scorching my backside. And with all the smoke damage, there is no room to breathe.
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 2:34 AM UTC
Any day now, I'm either gonna **** somebody, or end up dead myself.
Dramatic, I know.
And hey, maybe nobody will take me seriously when I say that.
Figures.
So far, the only people who give a **** are the people who believe I'm still a good person. And I'm not saying they're wrong, I'm just saying it doesn't matter to me if they're right.
Because I don't feel I deserve anything.
I can never focus on anything. I'm writing this because I should be doing other work right now. But when I'm not thinking about this, I'm overworking, or sleeping, or crying again, or shouting again.
I feel physically sick just being in this much pain. It's never gonna be driven out of my body until I get a **** miracle.
But those aren't really coming my way.
If karma is responsible for all of this than haven't I endured enough? Something needs to break the cycle. Or I just have to break. Act out, get expelled or suspended, consider the empty possibility of my thanatophobia finally leaving me.
I stopped caring about myself when an old enemy decided to step in and come after me. But the remarkable thing is that I handled it without attracting more trouble. That doesn't mean it didn't pain me to set myself aside to do so.
I'm not a complete pacifist. And my dangerous nature only gets stronger when left unquestioned by all. So yeah, I'm scared as hell of myself. But then again, so are other people.
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 2:18 AM UTC
I cannot stop crying to say my life.
It's like it's on a schedule.
Crying in school, after school, in my car, at home, to my parents, to my teachers, to no one at all. For sometimes... hours.
I have officially become so broken that I've become pathetic. So I don't know. I'm a wreck. I cannot even think about this without hating myself, and I can't talk about it without crying.
I'm a broken fricken record about this story. Saying it over and over.
Apologizing over, and over, and OVER.
I am so sick of it. I do not want this, but I can't escape it. As much as I may want to, I can't. It is so easy to write about the bad.
I can't remember one good thing last said by someone important.
But I have a million good things to say about them. I always will.
And you're the one who's sorry?
Not as sorry as I am.
I don't want to be told to "get over it" as if it was ever that easy.
And I hate this. I really do. There is nothing left here. So I guess you were right about me being nothing more than my mistakes. I hope you take pride in being right. Because I am barely hanging on.
And you decided to walk away.
That's okay.
After all, this is the real me right? I've secretly always been this monster. I'm nothing more than you say.
So tell me what I am.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 7:44 PM UTC
Every day feels the same.
I wear the same checkered shirts, eat the same food, go to the same classes, cry at the same story.
It never changes. And it never ends.
My life continues to be a TV drama gone wrong and all I want to do is burn it all. My shoulders are too high, shaking in 3 second shockwaves. My face is losing colour and life. The energy drained from my body. Strength beaten out of my arms and back.
There is not a whole lot of me left. So don't go looking for the living among the dead. Not if the host's body is already a graveyard.
Not a lot left to lose except for my own lone life. But I'm thanatophobic so an empty threat suicide isn't really doing anything.
And no, I don't want to hear about how "good of a person I am".
It makes me sick, I'm sick of hearing about how this is going to get better. I do not care to hear how it is "so easy" to just switch back to how I used to be.
It is never that easy.
I don't care if I can make this better, because right now, it is not up to me.
What I do, does not matter.
There will be no justice...
And no forgiveness.
At least I'm still in pain. It assures me that I am feeling anything at all.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 6:58 PM UTC
I told you so.
It doesn't really feel good to be right. Everything is ******* I haven't told anybody, but I have a feeling some people will know very soon.
This is killing me. It's Killing ME.
I'm going.
**Help me **** it!**
I don't want this.
I want a way out.
I want to go home.
But home isn't there anymore.
Home is not here.
And it won't be. Not anytime soon. Maybe not ever.
So I stopped trying to fight the brokenness. Not when I already shattered across the floor.
Every day feels like a public hanging. Accusations and no defence from me. I'm not okay.
So I will not return until I'm better. When that is, I have no idea. It could just never end. I could break and rage out, calling the hypocrisy and justification of how unfair this is.
Don't I deserve to be seen at all?
But if I'm not here, then who really gives a ****
Fine. I'll let you live your life free of my destruction on your happiness. Because after all, I bring the drama right? And I can't escape it right? Confining me to my mistakes and nothing else.
Because hey, I never meant a **** thing to you anyway. But I won't snap just to prove you right. I'll just hope to regret sets in like it is for me.
Because I never gave up on you.
Fact.
No exceptions.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 6:48 PM UTC
By nature, I am not a magnificent actor.
I mean, I try. My love of music and musical theatre does influence my acting ability. But even though I act in my videos for effect, or in a show for a laugh, I try to keep everything real.
Even though it's acting, I keep part of myself in my act, I stay present and honest. But that's not the kind of acting good at. Because right now I am fine. I work, I write, but to most of the world I am fine. Or at least I seem that way.
It's an act. And I am very good at playing the part. So good that I even fool myself. I forget I'm acting and just take my act as truth. Like I've always been like this. And it's terrifying to know this isn't me.
And this week I was doing well... until I wasn't.
I made it through a 6 hour workday, only to break down crying in my car just after the day ended. I didn't even expect to break until I just... did.
And losing the fifth is a pain I haven't really experienced. And now that the reality is setting in, I can't take it. I act like it. But hey, I can be a good actor when I want to be. So yeah, I am not okay.
But what can I do? It is not as easy as people say it is. At least, not for me. I can't explain it, I just don't speak up, and I shy away from getting better.
I don't say the right things, and people change, they move on, they let go.
And I... can't.
It's bordering on obsessive, making me seem crazy and unstable. I can't seem to pick myself up and let go. I mean, I don't want to. Too much good outweighs the bad for me to just give in. Or give up.
Or just... go.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 6:39 PM UTC
It's constant.
The crying.
Like a scene on repeat, and I can't turn the TV off.
I feel lifeless.
I want to be the pendulum swinging beneath a broken bridge over cold rushing waters.
I feel drunk.
Without being drunk..
I hate what happened.
I don't want this anymore.
Even if I do manage to fall asleep...
I have to wake up and do this all over again.
Never escaping this nightmare.
And continuing to cry.
Every day.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 1:37 AM UTC
If friend groups and cliques played a major role in anything, school definitely takes most of the blame. Because when you get down to the truth, people are awful.
We are just, the worst. So don't go trying to chase a utopia where we all do good by each other, because we can't. We don't ever take the route we would actually prefer in life.
Why is that? I don't know.
Like I said, people are awful. And there really is nothing you can do about it.
Okay, you what saves my soul? Laughter.
Because even when I know somebody isn't talking to me, their laughter still exists. Hearing joy and knowing that someone is okay, words aside.
And for me, that will never be enough to satisfy my loneliness. But it has to be. For their sake.
And for some reason, I still hold out hope. The slightest bit of optimism. Why? Maybe because I can see it when eye contact is made for barely 5 seconds.
I can feel us wanting to fix everything. But for some reason... we don't?
And maybe we never will. And that will never be okay but it has to be. It doesn't make sense, it never will. And that's just my life. But I don't want this all to seem like a bad dream. Because I'll just look back with regret.
And I can't live like that.
It would **** me to do so.
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 9:32 PM UTC
History.
Never really the highlight of my day. But always a stand out part of my day. Always structured the same way, never changed, but not boring. It's the kind of repetition you get used to, and for me, sometimes I'm thankful for it.
Hell, something has to stay the same. And with everything that's happened, I'm glad some things never change.
Or some people.
Dear God, nothing ever does come easy. And nothing ever will from here on out. So I'll just give in to my fate. Changing everything. Or nothing at all.
You know some looks could definitely **** I don't have that gut to just be inherently evil. Although I seem to be that anyway. I don't have the strength to look over my shoulder. I have too much shame in that.
It's like a tell, there is no breaking it. And it ***** The voice is enough to throw me off.
I cannot shake this. It's just one event right? One semi-life-changing problem that took its toll on everyone involved.
What have I done? What can I do now?
Is there such a thing as starting over? No. Not really.
Because unless we all induce amnesia on what happened, we do not forget what happened. We still hate each other. And the pride that comes along with that is nothing short of destructive.
If you're right, you're right. And if you're right, I have to be wrong.
And I am. I'm mature enough to acknowledge and wear my shame like my checkered shirts.
There is no such thing as a happy ending. We make mistakes, people don't forgive, we die, we fail, we do everything to deny our failure. And if we don't... then we carry our shame with the entirety of our shoulders.
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 8:47 PM UTC
After 2 weeks of being away from school, here I am again. And if I'm going to live through this week, I should tell you right away, it is going to be hell.
It's already eating at me and I am doing my best to pretend I'm okay. Because what's the use of feeling like nobody can fix me?
Because nobody can. I'm so broken that it's funny. Yeah, I can laugh about it. I already have. When I poured out my pain to my mom I was laughing and crying.
But it quickly turned from funny to just sad. For... a multitude of reasons. I think I'll keep the keys around my neck just to prove a point. That I can showcase my pain without anybody really caring. So... what now?
There is nothing I can do, the friendships aren't dependent on my actions. They never have been. I guess one thing worth mentioning is that I redo the sharpie on the key everyday. Just to keep it clear and legible.
And because forgetting this doesn't seem to be an option at this point. And my stubbornness in forgetting is... there. But that's always been a part of my life. So I distract myself with my work, however boring it may be.
And it's not all boring, but it is more than effective when it comes to my mental state. It's exhausting. But it works. And that is... enough?
Probably not. Ugh, nothing is making sense. I'm at a loss for once in my life. A loss of... well... what seems like everything. And for a teenager yeah, my situation does seem very "end of the world" like. But I try desperately not to overreact. But I do. And I will.
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 7:47 PM UTC
Sometimes the only way into my brain is to read my poetry.
Because talking to people is terrifying. And I don't know how to not be socially disastrous.
I don't know how to stop saying the wrong thing, so I don't talk. For fear of saying the right thing at the wrong time. And so far, I have become a train wreck of my mistakes. So I write.
So you're reading my life on pages. And this is real.
I can tell you with absolute certainty that these are my honest thoughts.
I know there is no good explanation for my actions.
I know there is nothing I can say to fix what happened.
But I'm willing to try again.
I'm willing to try.
I know I upset you. And I get why. But I am not strong enough to tell you face to face, so my thoughts end up here.
And that may not be the best thing I could've done.
I know.
...I know.
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 6:58 PM UTC
There has always been my family...
And My Family.
Day 1
I was born.
This girl was born to her parents not knowing anything. Living her life through school and music with her sisters and little brother, this is her life.
This is her family.
This is my family.
9th Grade
I meet a girl, and she is the definition of deafening headphone music and larger than life punk rock music. These types of instantaneous connections are too strong to ignore.
I knew right away, we would be friends.
She introduces me to her friends and I find myself in a group hug of my new friends, people who decided to accept me.
This is her family.
This is my family.
10th Grade
The same girl is my closest friend. But I am not her closest friend. I feel her pull away to be somebody else, and that is okay. I will often run to her crying and sad and she will do her best to pick me up. And she does.
The friend group we have is more like home than the house I sleep in. I forget about my parents and find comfort in the arms of my friends.
I feel conflicted about which family means more to me.
I tell her, "I know blood is thicker than water."
She tells me, "The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."
...I have never heard that before.
Is this her way of saying that we are more family than anything?
Maybe we are.
Or maybe we were.
We walk together knowing that we are never giving up on each other.
This is her family.
This is my family.
11th Grade
I meet another girl. A friend of a friend. Jealousy builds. Attention is a fight nobody wants to lose, I have become the 3rd party nobody asked for.
Families are supposed to fight. But now my family is not one that will fight for our happiness back.
But I want to.
I always have.
But I cannot fix this because I am not the only person involved.
Why are we fighting?!
Day X
I wish I could take back my mistakes.
One friend describes her life connected to 4 people... one of which is no longer talking to her.
And that one friend is also part of my family. And if losing 1 of 4 people you love is a tragedy, than for me...
It is losing 1 out of the 2 people I have left.
The two people I care for most will not talk to each other. And I am the biggest mediator the world never needed. But I cannot let go of either of the two people I love and care about.
I initiated the disaster. I started the dominoes. And I will pay for it.
I have to.
Nobody expected this catastrophe to affect me, or her, or the boyfriend, or the girlfriend, or the best friend, or the lost friend...
The victim
The aggressor
The manipulator
The cryer
The coward
Me
I cannot fix this with my own two hands.
I look at the two people I care for most.
They will not talk to each other.
And to a point, it is my fault.
I look at them.
We all had to suffer and bleed for this covenant of friendship and family.
This is their family.
This is my family.
This was my family.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 9:07 PM UTC
It’s 11:30 at night, and I’m staring at a screen that no longer notifies me that anyone I know is awake. For I am once again avoiding sleep, but I am waiting for a reason to stay awake. I do not want to sleep for fear of never waking up, but if you send me a message, I will have a reason to get up in the morning.
Fact: Our communication is more body language than it is words but not that this applies to the text message you will send from your phone. For the only thing that doesn’t involve words in a texting conversation is silence.
You’d be surprised at how often I’ve had to be silent for the sake of others. You see, I have been told by many that I am too selfless, and that I need to look out for myself a little more. But I can’t. I do not have the ability to stop caring about people who need me, even if I am suffering more than they are. It hurts…to know that people I care about are in pain, so I pretend my pain isn’t there.
But slowly, I begin to realize that listening to others and caring for them is not a bad thing, but it does give me a reason to ignore my own problems. I don’t want to ignore my own issues, but I don’t have the courage to tell them to my own friends, why is that?
One time, my brother was so sick he could barely swallow without feeling pain, so I only asked him yes or no questions so he could nod or shake his head to answer. His pain, kept him silent, and my pain keeps me silent. The only difference between his situation and mine is that my communication with him was working and this silence within me prevents me from even saying hi to people.
I want to tell people everything, I want to have 5-hour conversations about everything that makes me silent and I want to be able to send you a text message without worrying about whether or not I just interrupted your life for 2 seconds. I want to tell you that I’m having a bad day, but I can’t because seeing you makes my day so much better that I have to smile. I want to tell you why I hate the weekends because I love school because my friends are at school, and that I had a fight with my parents, and that I hate looking at my own reflection, and that every time I say to someone that I’m sorry, I’m also trying to say that I love them. I am sorry…sorry… I want to tell you that I sometimes feel so much pain that when you say hello or goodbye, I will only have enough energy to give you a small smile and a wave, I am lonely…
I want to get better, I want to say everything and be honest and just WHY GOD WON’T YOU HELP ME?!? I want to play music, and have fun, and live my life, please somebody hear me…
Ding
1 New notification:
“Hey, are you still awake? You seemed a little out of it today. I’m always here for you if you need me.”
It’s 12:00am and I’ve missed the moment where today became tomorrow. So maybe today is the day I tell you everything. Maybe our communication isn’t broken. I write back saying: “Thanks for checking in on me, it means a lot. Now that you mention it, there is something that’s been bothering me, I have something I need to tell you…”
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 1:05 AM UTC