Name Not Yet Decided

The Current State-- Sunday Night

It's too difficult to explain yourself when you're thinking too much. Things pile up in your mind, and it's literally like a dump of your personal emotions, scattered all of over the place. It's not an exaggeration. People use Dumps to drop off items they don't need anymore, while I use my Dumps to attempt  drop off items, well, feelings, I don't need anymore. The problem is I just can't let go of my feelings. I cling on to them, and everyday I go back to my Dump to relive and miss those feelings I once experienced but cannot experience anymore due to present circumstances.  For instance, like what is happening right now.

I'm on Instagram. I'm going through my feed of Nirvana fan pages, bands from the UK, and people I know from my high school. I see that my ex-girlfriend/best friend, Chloe, has made an Instagram account. Shit, I never thought I would see this day. I tap the 'follow' button. I notice that she has two pictures of her. I look at them, like the idiotic Instagram stalker I am.

One picture is of her using a dumb Snapchat filter, the one where you look like a dog. Molly took the picture of her. Okay, not too interesting. She does look weird as a dog. ..Okay. Next one...

A picture of a boy. Oh, for Science sake. I can hear my Dump Truck from the back of my head coming. The feelings I don't want to have anymore are about to come back, and as I much as I don't want them to come, they come anyway, hitting me head on. I try to prepare myself for what I might see. I read the caption as calmly as I can.

"Amazing night with this amazing girl"

My heart sunk.

The Dump Truck is coming full speed now. Oh God, I can't stop it. It's going past the speed limit. I can feel it. And like all of the other times, I feel like as if my life is over. This is it. I can't keep going anymore. I'm dead.

These may seem like exaggerated feelings, but it's really how I feel when the Dump makes an unexpected visit to me. It's the worst mood swing I could possibly have. And the more it happens, the more I think, "It can't get any worse than this. This is as far as the 'worst' can go. You'll be better, Chris. Trust the voice in your head." And like always, it gets worse. And worse. And worse. As much as I don't want to, I continue reading the post. I have to find out what my mistakes have cost me.

The photo tagged her newly made Instagram account, and about six people have liked the post. And oh my Science. Her hair is on his shoulder. And he's smiling. And I'm sure she's smiling. And while I'm in my room alone, being depressed, they're out. Together. I didn't like it. Not at all. This photo was one of the many reminders of why I am a failure. It's another reminder of how dumb I am. My life is done. I can't go on, knowing all the mistakes I have made. It can't go on.

And it won't. The Dump has made me go over the Edge, and I can feel it's effects on me. The thoughts. The overthinking. The quiet sobbing. It's all back again, to come pay its daily visit. "I can't do this anymore,"  I'm like. 

It really feels like I can't take anything anymore. It's becoming a normal feeling for me. It's the feeling where in the climax of my episode, I completely bust down and not think. Well, I try to not think. It usually results in me thinking to myself, "This won't work, you know. Everyone else is living their lives, and look at you. My Science, it's disgusting with you. What's the point of you even staying on this God-forbidden planet, Chris? There is simply no point of staying here. Chloe is better off without you. Everyone is better off without you." I call this process the Rap.

The Raps and the Dump experiences are like drugs-- You need  to stop, but you can't help but roll on back. And it's not because you want them to keep happening. Well, at least in my case. It's because you can't forget. The reason why people who use drugs keep going back for more is because of how they felt when they first used that drug. They chase that incredible high they first had again and again. The reason why I keep going back to the Dump is because of how I felt when I first had some of the feelings my Dump contains. I'm chasing my past, when I really should be chasing my future. I chase the past anyway, because I can't stop. It's a bad habit.

The first time I met Chloe. We loved each other at first sight. We planned to do something social together. We went out to the movies to watch Paranormal Activity 3 on Halloween night. I dressed up as my best Kurt Cobain impression. She dressed up as herself, which is a adorable teenager who likes to wear ties and checkered shirts. She looked so much better than I did that night, even though she had poorly put on eyeliner and her fingernails were colored in with a black Sharpie.

The first moment I realized that being a writer is what I wanted to do with my life. I felt so much joy. I felt like as if my life was complete, even though I was just a high school freshman at the time and haven't even taken a ACT test yet. Heh, I was such a goofy goober a year ago.

That's two of the rather few good memories the Dump contains. The bad ones are the ones that make the Effects and the Raps begin.

Like the first time I was severely bullied in sixth grade. I've been bullied all of my school life. I was that one kid who always got beat up during recess in elementary school. I couldn't do anything about it, considering I was a low coward who weighed as much as a twig. (And I still am.) The taunting and harassment I experienced in elementary school never really hit me like the bullying in middle school did. That's why I say severely  bullied when I talk about the middle school experience.

Or like when Chloe broke up with me. I took that harder than I've taken anything else. The aftermath of it contained the whole package: Crying, crumbled up papers explaining how much I love her and miss her, burying my head into my pillow to let tears flow constantly, and most of all... It contained me going back to the Dump constantly and thinking the Rap for a solid two hours.

I told her I still wanted to be friends. Some guys probably wouldn't do that if they were me. But Chloe just isn't a normal person. She's unique, and in a good way. She's the type of person to me that would make me want to live longer. The type of person you would only meet once in a lifetime. I didn't want to throw it away. She doesn't care if she uses black Sharpie to paint her fingernails. I find that a quite adorable trait, and honestly it's a good one to have. It's one of the many good traits I see in her.

Valuable trait: Not caring about using a black Sharpie to paint your fingernails.

Even after the breakup, I still love her. Which is very bad of me.

sigh. Another reason to go think about the Rap.