My Dreams are My Reality

Thoughts that keep me awake

Why do I keep rethinking things? It just makes everyone hate me.

My anxiety is getting in the way again.

If mom already understood me, why can't she still get that I do the chores my way, but still call it the wrong way and makes it "right" when she does it her way?

How am I suppose to kill my curiosity? It's not like I could get some baseball bat and whack it away just easily from my life. Like, if I can't be curious, it means I'm dead. It's like a drug to me now, an addiction. I can't cut it off just like that.

I don't like groups criticizing me in everything I do. That's why I distance myself from humans. Too much actually. It makes me lonely in some cases.

My mind was my salvation. Now it's both my sanctuary and destruction.

I'm already insane. Just much more controllable.

I'm a fucking hot headed bitch, so don't piss me off or I'll just have to stab your eyes with a pencil to make you shut up.

Mom calls me names that insults me. A boy from my class who also happens to be my seatmate pisses me off every second then some humans that I don't know are too kind hearted and innocent. What lovely things that ruin my life.

I'm not normal, nor am I shy, nor am I an alien. I don't even know if I'm human! A coward to the littlest things yet brave enough to stand to the giants. I'm way too curious. Way too clingy. So what? I just need one person to be with me that can accept me.

I never had real best friends that stayed beside me. I don't feel any love or help from the family, since nobody believes that I have a mental illness of anxiety thinking if I will live another day and clings too much to God. I know what I think is wrong, I just can't trust nor believe anyone else anymore.

SHOULD I EVEN TRUST ANYONE

My mind hurts, I can't think straight.

Should I cry? I don't feel sad. I could laugh. Because it's funny. I can't cry over a dead relative. Maybe I'm just too weak to do so.

I'm too clingy to best friends, because I care too much. I can't really feel love, so I hate it. I kept losing another friend, am I too weird or too much to be asked for to be befriended?

They know I'm the weirdest. They know I can be serious. Yet some make fun of me. Hold me back, I might strangle the bitches.

I need to consult a psychologist or therapist. Yet no one can afford to.

If you compare happiness to wealth, gold is just another rusty metal. That's why I can't afford such thing.

I'm annoying to this world aren't I?

My mouth is always silent yet my mind is screaming.

I don't usually talk, but if everyone can hear thoughts, mine would probably be one of the loudest.

Music keeps me sane, so does my friends. If both are gone, I'm probably brain dead.

Dead inside, no one gives a fuck.