Deepest Corner of My Notes App

God Dammit.

I've really done it now

I fucked up.

I fucked up big time.

And I don't know how to fuck it this time.

We were having a good time, I really thought I'd pulled myself out of my thoughts for the past week, finally got over my worries.

But I fucked up.

I mentioned shit that was hurtful, without even realizing it until I hit send.
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I just know that hurt.

And that he probably hates me now.

And I know the only way I'm making it out of this is friendless and alone.

God why couldn't this have happened after graduation.

I'm going to spend my last four days of my senior year alone and by myself.

I'm not going to be able to go out to lunch with people I thought were my friends.

Which I'm now just finally coming to the realization that they weren't. They only stuck around me because he was around me.

I'm the friend of a friend.

I was the outsider that just barged my way into the group. Uninvited, unannounced.

All of my recent friends have been people I met through him, that would choose him in a heartbeat. I'd never stand a chance.

I wouldn't even want them to choose me though.

All I wanted was him.

And I fucked that up.

That's on me.

That's another weight added to my mound of shit.

And I went crying to my best friend, hoping she could say something to make me feel better.

And if I were in the right mind, it probably would have.

But I'm not.

I'm having a panic attack, and I'm on day three of crying myself to sleep.

And I'm counting down the days where I'm finally void of school, for when I can finally get rid of myself without any worries.

My deepest worries are coming true.

Because I talked about them, I talked about my hypothesis'

I manifested them because I'd actually voiced them.

God I'm so stupid.

I want to talk about shit that eats away at me, and I want to talk about my worries and fears. But then I fucking manifest them.

I'm so fucking stupid.

I'll be okay though, I'll pull through. What's a week or two of self isolation really going to do, I've dealt with worse. What's another rejection added to the ever so growing list going to do, I'll just move on. Will it be slow? Yes, of course it will be. Will I give up and give in? Maybe. We'll let fate decide that.

We live our lives dreaming about our futures, but I don't. I like to live in the moment, and so until fate decides I'm done and that I'm no longer useful or needed, then I'll keep breathing.

I could never truly end my life by my own hands. Oh no. I'd be too scared. To scared of the possible outcomes.

So I'll stay at the ledge waiting and brooding my time, until someone passing by accidentally gives a little nudge.

Everything builds up. And so far, no matter what I say, this has been one of the worst months of my life.

Finally coming to terms with my feelings, finally wanting to do something with them, and then the thoughts came pouring in, and the suspicions and hypotheses' and the overthinking, and then they dwindled for all but less than twenty-four hours.

I've really done fucked up.

And writing this has made me come to terms with that.