From Thoughts to Paper

Entry 56

I thought I was done writing in here. I figured I would wait until the end of next summer to see if I still needed to write in here. I figured if I don't make anymore entries, I wouldn't have to worry about this anymore. I figured I would write in here one last time to finish my middle school thoughts. I figured the last two words would be my first and last name.

But I can't help it. I needed this tonight. Tonight's episode of depression: Love.

What happens if I don't find it?

What if I mess it up?

How can this torture still be going on?

I said that this journal was meant for my thoughts.

Right now, I feel like I'm ranting to someone who knows nothing about me. Granted, that's 97% of the people in my life. Maybe I'm talking to God. Maybe I'm telling my friends something I'm too afraid to say in person. Maybe I'm talking to myself. I keep writing in this notebook expecting it to make me feel better. The definition of insanity: repeatedly doing something and expecting a different result. I guess I'm insane. You wouldn't think it if you met me. Isolated me is a lot different than social me. The person I am; writing these words, that person stays up late at night contemplating in all of the things she's done wrong in her lifetime. She has to turn music on full blast to even have a chance at falling asleep. And the music only works when she knows all the lyrics to the song. She has to be able to sing along; to devoid her mind of her demons. Only them will she fall asleep. Only then will she be the person who is not insane. Sure she listens to all of the music she can think of, but she's your typical middle schooler: something completely crazy and totally normal all at the same time.

This really helped tonight. I don't know how. But now I'm devoid of all my thoughts. Now I can listen to the music. The demons have been pushed back in the solitary. Arms crushed in the metal doorway, trying to escape. But the deadbolt is firm. They won't be getting out tonight.