darker days

11/12 12 am

Ah... Who am I kidding.

What's even the point of this?

Nobody cares, nobody wants to care, and nobody's even here.

I ask "Am I a burden" or "Am I being annoying", and although I know a "no, you're not" is great, I know it's a "Yes you are."

That's the true answer. Yes, I'm a burden; yes, I'm being annoying.

I just like to lie to myself a lot that at least one person would care.

Nah, they wouldn't. I also don't have a chance at all of keeping the people I befriend. They're just going to end it like the others, swept away in the wind, flying away like the pretty birds they are, while I'm still stuck on that tree branch, scared of falling.

But is anyone else there? Nope.

Also, my mom suspects I'm depressed, which means one of two things.

1. She's getting better at reading me.

2. I'm getting visibly worse.

As much as I'd love the first one, the way my mom interpreted me is still quite wrong, with the only thing right being that I seem kinda just... Sad? Depressed, I guess?

So I'm getting worse.

...

Makes some sort of sense. I've stared at myself in the mirror hard so many times before, trying to see the empty compliments that I'm given with no success. I just see, well, frankly, an ugly girl with dull eyes that just can't focus on people, eyes half closed and dazed.

Perhaps you're wondering "Why don't you tell your parents seriously about how you feel?"

Yeah, well, fun story, once in maybe 5th grade, in a fit of sadness at night, I wrote three papers in my sloppier handwriting about just how lonely I was, how people said I was lucky, yet I always felt lost and how "not a soul" really cared. It was all about how "not a soul" understood and was basically the beginning of my decline. This was about the year that my grandma died.

You know how my parents reacted?

They didn't sit down with me to comfort me, they didn't have any care.

They laughed. They read it to each other and a bit to me, and laughed. They found it funny. The best they did was kind of scoff and ask if I really felt this way.

They also don't like me being afraid of things.

Now, if you've known me for a bit now, you probably know; I'm terrified of a lot of bugs.

Once, a roach went into a toy box of mine when I was little. I refused to go to my room to sleep because I was scared of it. My mom yelled at me and hit me with a piece of clothing.

I have a lot of things and stories that show that no one gives a single fuck.

The story of the period of the first several years of elementary when I truthfully told my mom that I didn't eat school lunch because I didn't like it, and got hit with a yard stick many times. How she saodt she'd be watching me during lunch, making me scares of her watching me through school windows for weeks.

The times when I would be threatened to havey fingers cut off if I didn't hold the pencil properly, embarrassed in the whole class if I didn't stop browsing on the Internet.

How I told people about being threatened and got a "But your mom's so nice" in response

And then there's separation anxiety. If I'm not with friends, I just always feel more worried and stuff, and if I see them, I always glanced their way, wondering if theyllt see me or not.

Ok time to stop complaining about things I'm.probably being too antsy about.