My home life is okay, I have a cat. Isobel. I sleep either her. I have two ready bears, they're under my pillow and now that I sleep with Isobel I no longer sleep with my teddy bears. But having them under my pillow keeps me sane I guess. If I had to move them I'd be filled with a strange bout of anxiety. I don't know why. And when I don't listen to music for more than a day. And also when I don't have the correct ear pieces to listen from. I get very, frustrated?
So I keep them under my pillow. I have to keep them there.
It's normal, i just feel anything but normal. I usually think rationally, I don't let my thoughts or feelings control my actions. It happened one time. With a school project. But that was another bottled up explosion. I keep things in a lot. So when I get angry. I get angry. And when I get sad. I get numb and feel nothing. And when j get frustrated, well it's happened one time and I don't plan on getting that way again.
I have considered going back to my counsellor, but I no longer feel comfortable just talking about these things, even though it's exactly what I'm doing right now. But you can't see me tight now.
I've decided to make a second journal where I write my thoughts in poem form. And letters.
Letting out exactly what I feel.
I mean, I don't want to blame myself. But sometimes I just do, and nobody ever sits down either me to say, "it's not you". And so I feel like it is.
I write songs, and let me tell you something. These songs got me calmed. Kept me warmer. And then one day i lost these songs. I kept them on my phone. I kept telling myself to write them down. Print them out. And i never did. Then my brother in law saidvi should upgrade my softwear since my phone was slow. And when i did, the wifi shut down. And now my phone is stuck in a reboot loop and wont go back on. And some cell tech guy says i should wipe the soft wear to fix my phone. So I refuse to do this. Because I have a strong feeling there's another way to fix my phone. Without losing my songs.
However. These songs are still completely lost if I no longer have them in my hands to physically see.
So I blame myself for the small things in life. The times I don't listen. To myself or anyone else. To not redlizing what perverted jokes truly were. To bring myself and still getting trashed about it. For being young. For being here. For being born. For the doctors who saved my life when I had weak lungs. I blame myself for existing in a world where I really just don't belong.
I guess everything is getting worse and nothing I do is helping. Something else always happens to make it worse. And I truly don't know what to do anymore. I've tried and I've tried so many things.
(February 12, 2018)
