of rants and poems.

diary

i've never been one for diaries, but i need to write this stuff out.

dear diary,

it's quiet.

and that's okay. i went to my game today and we lost, and no one came to see it and that's okay. i got home and saw that they all gave up trying to message me. that's okay, too. i've been through school and panic attacks and cool things that i've been bursting to share with other people, but i've kept myself quiet. i've disconnected, and that's okay. i'm lonely, and that's okay. 

i am quiet. been quiet. shaky and shy and never ready to jump first but today i went to that game and saw them play and i wasn't even fucking in there and my heart rose. i was the loudest one in the stands and the quietest inside and that was okay. and afterwards i was happy and excited and then my high drained and i got quiet again. that's okay. i keep it here, with me- all the feelings of the goods and bads, they're mine. no one wants to listen, and that's okay. i don't really feel like talking.

a volleyball game made me feel better than i have since august, and it's made me excited about my future. i'm okay with whatever is thrown at me until then, because i know i'll do something great, even if i don't utter a word until that moment. and i'm lonely and quiet and not doing too well, but that's okay. the quiet's okay. 

i was never really one for talking, anyway. that's okay.

i was never the passionate one that people would listen to. i've got awkward features and a sad soul and no voice. i'm no leader, but no follower. i'm better off alone, honestly. and that's all okay, because i'm good at listening. that's okay. and maybe i love volleyball so much because this is my chance to actually show off. all of my friends are artistic and musical and i'd hear "oh, yeah, _______ likes that too." and it made me feel unoriginal. and that's okay. i'll kick ass and be the best i can be in something that none of my friends like or will ever see me do because they don't care enough, and i'll keep going. volleyball shows my power, despite my lack of voice. i'm noticed on the court, despite being a show off of it. and y'know, that's all okay.

my nights are lonely, and that's okay.

no one's going to read this, and that's okay. everyone is gone, and that's okay.

... you know when you say something so many times, it starts to feel unreal and wrong?

love, a.p.c.