Fucking Done with Math

I'm so fucking done with all of this shit. My parents CONSTANTLY nag me about retaking a fucking math test I got a 70 on as if me retesting and getting an 84 will magically bump my grade 7 points to an A. IT'S NOT GOING TO FUCKING HAPPEN. Sorry but no. I'm so fucking done and now my dad is yelling at me in front of Madison, my mom's "wonderhelper" and I'm literally just SO SO SO SO fucking done. no one ever fucking listens to me or even pretends to and I literally can't take it. Just fucking over it.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. my mother just came in and said I should have told her all of this 3 weeks ago. I FUCKING DID! I can't tell you how many times I fucking explained this to you!!! YOU NEVER FUCKING LISTENED TO ME!!! that's the problem! this makes me want to bash my head against a fucking wall!!! you caused me this much stress and anxiety for two whole fucking months as I try to explain that whether I get an 83 or an 85 WILL NOT EFFECT MY GPA and then you have the fucking nerve to come into my room and tell me that i never told you???? Fuck you. just Fuck you fuck you fuck you. I hope you fucking love yourself.

I literally have no words for right now. No words at all.

Fuck you.

Please Do Not Tell Me...

New Medications, The Joys of Anti-Depressants

I've started on an anti-depressant. Lexipro it's called. I went to a psychiatrist on Friday and a therapist today. I vowed I would tell them that I tried to kill myself when they asked but when the question was hanging in the air in front of me, expectant looks on both their faces willing me to tell them exactly how bad it could be or maybe is I just couldn't force the words out of my mouth. They just wouldn't escape and go into being. They stayed in my head and wallowed there as the phrase "No, never" slipped out and my innocent mask flitted over my face, willing them, entreating them to believe me that no no no, I would NEVER actually kill myself! thats just not the type of girl I am. Not that type, not that type. I maybe think about it ok ok, maybe it's always in the back of my mind, I can admit that after a bit of a struggle, but no no no, I just can't tell these complete strangers that yes, I think everything would be better off if I died and just stopped living. Everyone would be happy that way. I know it's true. That maybe if I wasn't such a filthy coward and plucked up my courage I could actually take enough of those sleeping pills and just slip slip slip into the sweet darkness that beckons me so softly. Softly. Softly.

An Invasion of Privacy

And somehow life gets shittier. Two weeks ao my parents read through every text i've sent in the past three months. Oh my god, my ones to Ben, my ones to Becca EVERY THING... oh my god oh my god.

I got in SO much trouble. im so so so so so grounded and have no texting and no contact with Ben and never seeing Becca again outside of school. OH MY GOD.

This has caused me SO much stress and anxiety lately I just can't like I can't even.

I just... I don't even know... My mom and dad went through and read every single text of mine for MONTHS... The ones about my boyfriend and I, the ones between Becca and I, EVERYTHING. I don't even know what to do or say... like what am i... oh my god I don't even know... She came into my room that night and had a 2 hour long discussion with me about everything I had written. Like that I was telling my friends about our fights and I wasn't exactly phrasing them in a nice matter in regards to her and that I slept over at Ben's and that we had drank and smoked and oh my god oh my god oh my god. EVERYTHING..... all the awkward texts I send my boyfriend... all our PRIVATE conversations....... ahhhhhh shit shit shit shit





Like what am I supposed to do????

What You Know When You Know You Will Die

i don't think anyone understands the fragility of life quite like someone who plans on ending theirs. Someone like me, who knows they are going to die soon. I understand that life is extremely fragile, easily broken and impossible to mend. Breaking skin, touching blood and bone and organ, that's all it takes. Humans are more fragile than the typical child's bouncy ball. Or the little girl's doll, or the 100 dollar phone. We break easily. I'm one of the few who try to break it. Try to push push push at the thin barrier between life and death and burst through to the other side, where things must be better. They MUST. because how could anything be worse than the hell I live here on earth.

I've heard this theory that maybe earth is another universe's heaven. That things here are so much better than everything there and that we people are so lucky to get to live such a wonderful life here on earth or heaven or wherever we are because we have happiness and kitty cats and donations and movies and music.

I refuse to believe this. We have starvation, and disease, and hate, and war, and screaming, and suicide, and murder, and violence, and indifference, and oppression, and bullying, and depression, and mental disorders, and horrible car wrecks, and guns, and tragic accidents, and all of this cannot cannot CANNOT amount to heaven.

My guess is that we're living on some other planet's Hell. It's one big joke and the sooner you get out the sooner you can go back to that much much much better world where people are actually happy and kind and caring and sweet. I intend on leaving as soon as humanly possible. I've tried before.

The thing about depression is that though you may have a wonderfully perfect day, the littlest things set you off and leave you struggling to hold yourself together, crying in a little heap. Sometimes I have to physically hold myself in one piece. Wrap my arms around myself and squeeze as tight as I can to ensure that I don't shatter into a thousand glittering pieces. Because sometimes the pain of everything is so bad  feel like I might. That no mortal person could ever hold so much hurt and sadness and pain inside of them without it bursting out like a tidal wave.

Sometimes, when I'm hurting so bad, and crying so hard, and completely listless on the floor of my room I can feel my little heart. It hurts so badly. It's like its under this enormous pressure or is being pricked by one thousand little needles and it just hurts so bad. Traitorous thing. I just want to get a knife and cut it out of my chest and throw it away. It does me no good. It only hurts me more and more.

Oh how I long to cut it out!!!

When I was Little My Parents Told Me...

This poem is so horrifically simple and true.

Boston

In the light of the sun, is there anyone? Oh it has begun
Dear you look so lost, eyes are red and tears are shed,
This world you must’ve crossed,

 she said

"You don’t know me, you don’t even care,"

She said

"You don’t know me, and you don’t wear my chains,"

Essential yet appealed, carry all your thoughts across

An open field,

When flowers gaze at you, they’re not the only ones who cry

When they see you

She said

"You don’t know me, you don’t even care,"

She said

"You don’t know me, and you don’t wear my chains"

She said

 "I think I’ll go to Boston,

I think I’ll start a new life,

I think I’ll start it over, where no one knows my name,

I’ll get out of California, I’m tired of the weather,

I think I’ll get a lover and fly him out to Spain,

And I think I’ll go to Boston,

I think that I’m just tired

I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind,

I think I need a sunrise, I’m tired of the sunset,

I hear it’s nice in the Summer, some snow would be nice,

You don’t know me, you don’t even care,

Boston, where no one knows my name,

Where no one knows my name,

Boston, no one knows my name."