empty parking lots, empty pill bottles.

i'm going crazy.

"they say a woman's first blood doesn't come from between her legs, but from biting her tongue"

- meggie royer

sometimes there are things I wish i could just scream at people. words that have been lodged beneath my ribs, in my lungs for so long they start to rot and become mean and sour, and one day they'll just explode from vocal chords.

i've had to say goodbye to a lot of people this year. my favorite teacher, one of my dear friends, my least favorite teacher, my role model. and it scares me, this fear of loosing people i look up to, because then how ill i know who to become? and will that person that i am make them proud?

a good friend of mine's grandparents are going to die. not yet, as of today, but they will, and everyone knows it. they're both in the hospital, and they're not going to make it to july. how do i comfort someone who bares such grief on such young shoulders? how do i relate to it, with my grandmother having died before i remember, with the others still living? how do i become ever other person in this world and still stay individual.

i wish i could put my body in someone's mind, maybe float around for a while. I wonder what my mind would look like. a cavern of colliding thoughts.

going to school this last week and the week before was weird. after the shooting, it's all weird, all a little off-kilter, all falling off its silver pedestal. thoughts and prayers, thoughts and prayers. fuck that.

i'm tired, and im scared, and i don't want to be tired and scared anymore, i just want to graduate and be done. i am done. i want to go to college and learn and run in fields of wild flowers and not have to run from anything. because at this rate, it feels as though growing up itself is an act of rebellion.

i am exhausted by the country i live in. and i want to leave. go to the south of france and learn a language i've never spoken before and explore through a city whose name i can't pronounce with people i love. i just want to be free from this grip that time and life and clocks and homework has on me.

and i'm so lonely. its just me and my pills, my imagination that pumps fake happiness into it so i can dream of worlds better than the one i live in. a nightmare.

i curled my hair last night, in those retro curlers and fancy things, and i didn't recognize myself when i looked in the mirror. i doubt i would've anyways.

the exhaustion is starting to get to me, i think.