My journal is not going to be a happy one, because I do not live a happy life. An easy life? Maybe, by some peoples standards. But happy and easy are not synonymous. My post will be filled with hatred, and venting, and everything that would be displayed as ‘taboo mid-20’s depression’. But I don’t care. These are my words. My thoughts. And my voice in the form of typing.
Yesterday, I broke down. Not a normal breakdown mind you, I broke down because I ripped the zipper off of my favorite boots. I ripped my favorite boots because I was in a rush. I was in a rush because I had put off going to an event in hopes that I wouldn’t have to go. This event, was a simple social gathering of a few friends and family. But you know what I felt? Failure (a common theme I expect you to see in a lot of my writing). I envisioned people walking up to me “So what are your plans for school” “where are you working” “everything will happen in time” and a bunch of other bullshit that was supposed to come off as sympathetic, but would only leave me crushed under a pile of self pity with a heaping dose of defeat. In my mind, all eyes would be on me and my pathetic life. 23, living at home, with no degree, no aspirations, and 100 lbs overweight. So yes, I broke down.
I screamed. I screamed at my boots for not going on my fucking feet, I screamed at my boyfriend (who had stepped outside) for making me go to this stupid thing so he could eat, I screamed at myself for looking so horrible after just stepping out of the shower, and I screamed in dread of seeing all the judging faces filled with a look of “you’ll get there soon bud”. I don’t want your judgement. I don’t want your well wishes. Just leave me the fuck alone.
Yesterday sucked. Today was worse. You know when teachers say they cant have a favorite, but you know they do anyways? Same thing goes with parents and friends. My dad will always love my sister more. Maybe its because of her slimmer physique, maybe because of her superior athletic ability. I don’t know. I’m learning to live with it. But how do I cope with having my best friend not be my best friend? How do I let someone who is first best in my book, put me as second or third best in theirs? Why am I not good enough to be your first choice S? Why do you prefer her over me? Is it because you both played D1 soccer? Is it because when I was forced to move you felt the need to replace me with someone you could see everyday, go to prom with, play soccer with, and just talk to? I’m sorry I couldnt be there. I wish I could have. And I hate myself because me leaving meant that you got to replace me as number 1, and my heart just hurts for that. I don’t blame you completely. I think it’s just, knowing I was your number 1 best friend made me less aware that no one else needed me as their best friend. I am no one to anyone. Sure people like me, but they don’t need me, and that’s what makes it so hard to sleep. I am not needed and that’s a devastating realization to come to.
So what to do now? What do you do when you feel so much stress for no reason? My solution is usually to eat, hence why I’m so fat. But I have no purpose in this life. Sure I can make plans, but I know I wont fufill them. Why would I? What good is having plans is you’re isolated and have no one to share them with? Making plans are just a way to waste my time, a way to forget that I am a scar in everyones’ life- relevant at one point but eventually I fade away and no one care that I’m there.
Thats it for tonight. Feels good to talk, even if its through the typing of the keys. The noise calms me (ironically, because I hate the sound of other people typing). I hope to keep up with this journal to keep me sane, but if not, thank you for letting me blow off steam at least once. Thank you for listening, in a world where my words don’t matter.