Talking with my brother just now made me feel so justified on what I’m feeling towards the people in my life. My senior year would’ve been better, easier, and less drama filled if I hadn’t allowed someone to be in my life when all they do is bitch and moan about EVERYTHING and its literally made me so tired. SHUT. THE FUCK. UP. You choose to complain about things YOU HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE, Yet you still sit here before me, bitching and being inconsiderate to others, thinking I give two fucks about all your shit talking. It really doesn’t help your case either considering the way you pick at not only the people you hate insecurities, but also my own. My bad moments with you FAR out weight the good. People like you are the main reason I’m fucking ecstatic to leave high school. I don’t care what you’ve to say, most of the stuff that comes out of your mouth is literally some of the ugliest most negative and unintelligent things I’ve ever heard a girl say about people. You’re going to ruin someone’s life with all that negativity, or, get your ass beat for being such a cunt all the time. Grow up. I’m officially 50 shades of done with your immature bullshit.
Why are you torturing me with this friendship that’s hanging by a thread? You ruined my life, I took your virginity, I say we just call it even and stop with everything that has to do with one another before I throw myself into traffic.
I don’t know why I’m so emotional tonight. But I do know this whole, “Slowly talking to you less and less” thing is taking its toll on me. I don’t want to stop talking to you. I don’t want to be remembered as just an object to you. I don’t want to not see you every day once high school ends. It hurts. I’m scared and I don’t know what to do about it anymore. I feel so helpless and there’s nothing I can do about it but watch it happen. I get to watch a man I honest to God care about walk out of my life and move on without even a second glance at me.
It made me kind of happy today when my Drama teacher made that tweak in our class scene where my make believe baby’s daddy comes back and say’s “I love”. I say, “I’m pregnant.” earlier in the scene and his stage direction is to look at me and then walk away as if to leave me. No one will really understand how powerful this whole little fit of one liners and reactions means to me. The fact that he’s made to come back and be supportive to a young mother and stay gives me some weird sense of security. It’s just a scene. We’re just acting. But those two words have a lot of meaning behind them.
I hate getting on the subject of self harm with my mom. It’s not a subject I like talking about, or even elaborating how I feel on it to her because I already know what she’s going to say. I myself have never done it, or attempted it, simply because I hate blood and I hate pain. That’s not my way to deal with things. But I know she worries that I will, and I suppose I can’t be upset with her with being so insensitive towards people who do self harm because I know where she’s coming from. When I was best friends with someone who not only harmed herself, but also other people mentally to make them feel sorry for her, that was one of the lowest points in my life where I almost did try it. My mom sees me hanging out with people who self harm as one of the worst decisions I can make because I take things a little too hard. Seeing a scar on a wrist or anywhere else makes me feel as if I’ve failed as a friend. I failed to help, I failed to listen, I failed to prevent it. Loosing one of my friends to self harm took a major hit to me as a person. Starving myself with my “best friend” who hated her body made me hate mine too. I know my mom is looking out for me. Saying I’m wasting my time trying to help someone who’s mind works in a way where harm is the only way.
And sometimes I hate myself for understanding her.
I need a new, cuter, nicer, more muscular, Indian boy to sext and love and hug and have over when my mom isn’t home. Now would be nice.
Sometimes I get in these moods where I don’t want one hand anymore. And that’s shitty. Because that’s the one thing I’ll never be able to change no matter what. I can change my fat with exercise. I can fix my face with make up and surgery and stuff if I want to. I can change a lot of things about me. But I’ll always have one hand. I suppose I just have to think positively. At least I have one that works. At least I’m not missing a leg. At least everything else about me is pretty normal. But when people draw attention to me simple to make fun of me, that’s one thing I’ve never learned to deal with. Mostly because it HARDLY EVER happens, but when it does, it hurts. Pretty badly. You take the one thing you know I struggled with accepting for 14 years and you use it against me? That’s not very cool at all. I know the difference between my friends joking WITH me, and people laughing AT me. It’s something I can’t change. Why do you feel the need to tease me about something beyond my control.
I find it really heart breaking that you either choose to not see the damage you’ve done, or you do see it and you don’t have enough respect for me to apologize. You honestly don’t understand the hell I’ve been through this year because of you. You’re the King of making me feel so horrible about myself, and I don’t deserve that anymore. What I did to you, I made up for. I was there and I never left. I showed you affection, I gave you my undivided attention, I destroyed your insecurities. And what did you do for me? You made me trust you. You made me think I could count on you, and that you actually cared about me. Then you destroyed me from the inside out. If you wanted my blood splattered across the walls you could have it. But you chose this. You chose to destroy everything I like about myself, and force me to live with it while you move on with your life. You’re perfectly fine with the damage you’ve done.