Pain Reliever

Vent #1

"How to Disappear Completely" - Radiohead

It's happening again. This ugly feeling that is only swirling through my head. It usually starts off creepily, and then numbs it's way through your brain. I can never find an end to this feeling. An analogy made to me running through and endless tunnel, where I'm alone and no one can save me. But then again, I'm not in an endless, I am laying here miserable and hopeless, on the floor, staring at the ceiling, wondering where my life has gone to during this short period I have lived through. Living? Shall I dare to even call it that? This isn't living- this is death. An oxymoron: a living death. And it is absolute hell.

No one ever listens, and when they do, they don't understand anything. They can never understand what I'm saying. They will nod their heads and pretend to empathize, when all they do is sympathize me in the end. Like I'm a child, someone you can't take seriously. And when they try to, they will claim to hate being serious, because being serious is weird, and everyone loves to let loose. No one likes to be serious, they like to go out and have fun; not to lay on the floor and think about wallowing in their self pity.

Well I love to have fun, too! Don't sue me, I do! But when I go through moments like this, moments where you hate life and everything surrounding it, I'm pretty sure it's hard to "let loose". It's hard to think positive when all you're thinking of is how to leave this world. Ways to run away and move on from this depressing presence. When all you're thinking of is where you screwed up. And I most certainly screwed up multiple times before.

I have friends that listen, I'm certain of it. It may be hard to believe, but I do. They try their absolute best to help, and I try my absolute best to confide in them. I feel that it is healthy to vent, but you see, no one trusts me enough to spill their emotions to me.

No, I'll be honest, that's not all my friends. Only one. She helped me pull through, but I sense that she doesn't want to vent out to me. I've known her for a long while now, and I can never understand why she doesn't trust me. While she cried, one day, I tried helping, but she got up and went to talk to the teacher about her problems. I understand, an adult would know how to cope with it. But do you know how bad I felt? I felt like the worst friend ever, and you know what, maybe I am?

I've done my absolute best to...I don't know. But that just tells you that I try. That I make an attempt. I have tried many times to strive, I do. But I am nothing but a sinner. I have this emotion that carries on with me forever for an unknown reason. It pains me too much. Having depressing thoughts and not knowing why. Having the same thought every day, and never moving on.

I once had that person, once upon a time, whom I could let everything out to, and they'd do the same. We had that incredible bond. That strong bond where we can even sense if someone is in trouble or is just feeling down. We understood each other, despite our different colors and cultures. But that person has long ago left, and who knows, maybe I'll get to reunite with them? An incredible thought, indeed, but for now, that person is better off without me.

So what am I doing? Currently, what is going on? I am inside my room, the curtains are closed, and it is bright and sunny outside. Closed curtains make the room seem dim and a little dark. I am laying on the floor with the headphones in, listening to "How to Disappear Completely", by Radiohead. It makes me feel like I'm drifting off into some land, unknown. My mom has kept repeating for me to wash the dishes, and I've had the same reply for a while now,

"Okay, mom, after I finish writing this thing."

This thing is what's helping me manage through with this utterly disgusting feeling I'm going through. This thing is the only to know my exact feelings, and at least a quarter of what it is I am concerned for. Of course, I mean myself, because I am here to vent about myself, and none other than myself. If I come across as complaining about others, please note that it's not what my motive is.

My face feels a little too hot, and my tummy really hurts. I feel like I might break in half if I try and move from my position. That if I try and (fake a) smile, my heart might collapse.

But fear not, dear reader, I will still be here tomorrow. I will still plaster some fake smile and continue walking off this pain. I will still walk into Fourth Period Spanish class and yell with my heart, "Buenos Dias!". I am not leaving any time soon, as I have nowhere to go. I have no one and nowhere to run to. Even being six feet under moist dirt doesn't sound fun, either. I think I might have a future, so that's something to look forward to. In all honesty, I'm just stuck. Plain said: stuck.

I don't expect any form of compliment to make me feel better. Save the compliments for yourself, my greatest reader. It took a whole lot for you to read this- that is if I publish this. But I do not expect anything. No vote, no comment, no share, nothing. Just you reading this means enough already. From now on, I keep to myself. The way that my she-friend keeps to herself. If she can do it, so can I. She seems to have enough problems, and I do, too. I most certainly do not want to throw my trash on someone's porch and have them sort it out for me. These are my problems, and I can deal with them. It's not like anybody could have really helped, either. It was nice of them to try, but it hasn't worked. Not my mother, not my father, not the social-workers, and not the police. I can have as many people in the world that love me, and I will still feel like the loneliest girl in the world. I am thankful for those people, definitely, but I do not feel that connection with them. I am practically cut on ends and connections with any other soul. There is no one on this Earth, now, to really understand how I feel. And I accept that.

This does not mean that I will not try and help others. I always loved helping, and speaking with people; letting them know that I can be of some use. It's the only thing, really, that I can do. The only thing I can try to be good at. And if any person reading this has had similar feelings, I would not hesitate to reach out to me. The Internet has turned into so many different things, and it's given us the ability to communicate with each other. I am person in the middle of some country spilling my heart out, trusting whoever reads this, meaning that you can do the same, also. But if you are unable to be the same as I, I will not push any further.

I hope that one day I can break from this shell. This shell of ugliness and despair- this shell of fantasies of somehow becoming more satisfied with life without venting to people. Note that I use the term "satisfaction" and not "happiness", because I do expect so much out of life. Happiness is the hardest to get, but satisfaction is not. It can be striven for if you work hard enough. Unfortunately, I've given up on trying, and I don't expect any satisfaction in life any time soon.

But for now, there are dishes to be washed and tears to be un-shed. Leave me be, and maybe I can find the audacity to be happier.

I am congenial somewhere in my bones, and so I will help too. There is nothing better than an emotional connection. I find that in poetry. I find that in pieces like this. Whether I get a penny or nothing from this writing, all that matters is someone who can connect with what they are reading (from me).

There is not much more that I can say. This song that I have had on repeat for a while is getting much too pestering, and I am trying to find a song that I can relate to that, of course, has a catchy tune to it.

A while back, I made a quick story of two people that share a moment together like this. Where someone cries and someone else is there to help them. A dialogue of how I want it to be for me. If I can find it, I'll definitely make sure to write it in here. Maybe I'll type it today. I must say, it is not the greatest thing, but it "expresses" how I want things to turn out for me. (Also, they are completely fictional characters, nothing to do with me, and it is told in third person.)

Listen to "Let It Go", by James Bay. It may explain how I feel about life itself now, not a specific person. If you would like, you can comment your feedback on this. I won't force you to do something you don't want to. I'm getting restless of this, and I must leave now.

I bid you a good day, and a good life. May peace be upon you, along with satisfaction and potential happiness.