Apprehension and Sorrow

I don't know anymore.

      I know it's been a while since I've wrote in this god awful "book", or whatever it is. I just didn't feel up to it, and it's a bit hard to type on a small phone, but it's okay I have a computer now, but nothing really important to write about. I know last time I was on here that I was telling you about the first time I "self harmed", but even I know that was complete bull shit. Of course it was true, I wouldn't lie about something like that, but lets face it. It probably wasn't that damn bad. The only thing "bad" about it was I thought I was doing it for attention, but when the time came to it I wasn't showing it to anyone. It takes a real fucking twat to actually do that and basically make it seem worse than it really is for attention. 

     I apologize in advance if this "chapter" is a bit too long, but honestly I couldn't care less. Like, I really could not give two fucks anymore. I'm so confused though, because I care a lot, but it seems as lately I just don't. I just don't know, and I simply do not care. Even though I should, and I do. I know I'm probably being the most confusing bitch right now, but this is what goes through my mind every. damn. day. I care, and I love, things that should be, but the only thing that should be cared about that I really don't seem to care at all about  is me. I couldn't care less. I hate me, and yeah that sounds awful, but I can't help it. I am my worst enemy. 

   Honestly this is the only thing I can use to express myself. You know, with things I wouldn't dare tell anyone, even my closest friends/friend. I literally have two people I tell the most to, well almost everything to. My best friend (hey girl), and my boyfriend. That's it. Sad? No, I don't think it's necessarily sad, but maybe it isn't the happiest thing to be bragging about. 

    I would say I think, but its what i know. I know that I say more in this damned "book" about things than I do to the two people that mean the most to me. One of them reads this, but you know what? Fuck it. I'll say what I want, and I couldn't give two shits... Oh, but I do. I care. Too much, it just seems easier to pretend I'm heartless. But it's so hard. It's so hard to pretend to be heartless when your heart is right there on your fucking sleeve. 

   A few paragraphs before this one, you may recall the whole recap of the "self harming twat", well she still lives. She looks as though she's living, shes talking, breathing, smiling, her brown eyes shine and sparkle when the sun flashes by them, her brown hair is slightly curly some would say wavy, and it blows when the wind exhales its gasps of air during the summer, or maybe during a storm. Everything about her seems so full of life during the day, but when night falls, and the darkness takes over? She's dead. Her wavy brown hair is now in a messy bun, her eyes that were sparkly in the sun are now dull in the presence of the moon, and they fill with water as she thinks about how long this will continue on, shes not talking, and shes barely breathing, just gasping for air as she weeps, nothing about her is alive anymore. It's dead, and broken. That happy humorous girl you met today? The one full of smiles and laughs? That's the same, sad, fearful, frightened, girl tonight. The one full of tears, and cries. 

   I find it amazing really. How someone can seem to hold zero talent, but they might just be the best damn actor/actress you've ever met, and you don't even know it. It honestly sucks, and people push other people off like it's nothing. The society we live in is so fucked up, and it really pisses me off, but being someone who can't even order her own damn food how am I suppose to change that? Exactly, I can't. I just hate how it's so hard to tell people about things, and bring things up that's happened in the past, but are just now starting to bother you. I hate how those things are so hard to tell, and then when you finally do they act like it's nothing. Like "Oh, well this happened to me, and I'd say you're lucky". No, you can not make it seem like you have it fucking worse, even if you have been dealing with a similar issue longer. You should be HELPING the person get through it using your experience, instead of rubbing it in their face, "oh it's not that bad. You just had a bad day.". Saying someone can't have it bad, because you have it worse is basically the same as saying someone simply can't be happy, because someone has it better.