I go through the motions. Laughing at the right moments, always answering questions in class, making sure to talk to my friends in the hallways.
It's all fine. Some days, I even am happy.
But those are the days.
Then I come home where there is yelling and verbal war.
As the sun sets, my small window of happy disappears.
It's not their fault. Their fights and screams didn't make me this way. I just can't seem to take the pain of myself away.
I stare at the ceiling for hours on end. Trapped in my dark little bubble, overthinking everything.
Do I really believe in God? Am I supposed to have these doubts?
Shit. What if my parents find out.
I haven't prayed for weeks. My journal's filled with sins and tears.
I have to make my confirmation. Maybe there will be some holy sign then.
But what if there isnt.
Does it mean I'm wrong?
Shift the thought process.
Now I think of my friends.
I don't like them. They don't get me but they're all I have.
Better some than none right?
That question I don't know the answer to.
Do they see me as the fat little girl I see myself as?
The one who always eats too much, and wears the nerdy shirts.
The one that can't wear contacts, or put on makeup.
The girl who everyone laughs at for answering a question and speaking her mind.
Who has frizzy hair and doesn't ever know what to do.
All of my worries, all of my doubts, come from the shady corners of my mind, collecting and forming a snowball effect of frustration and sadness.
Now comes the self pity.
Why do I have to think this way?
Why can't I just live ignorantly forever?
I don't want to care but I do, because I'm and over sensitive pushover that takes everyone's words to heart.
Salty tears drench my stuffed lamb that I'm probably too old to be sleeping with.
I think about death. What it would be like to die. It doesn't seem so bad.
Unless of course I go to hell. I wouldn't be to surprised.
I had cursed god so many times. If he isn't real, then it seems I've won.
That's the only victory I can think of now.
None of my other accomplishments matter because I feel too pitiful to give myself those things.
It makes me sick to think of the mess I'm in right now.
My thoughts are all gumbled and I can't even stick to one idea.
There is too much to think about.
There is too much everything.
