I should be proud but I’m not.
I’m a National Merit Semifinalist. Our school had nine this year, including me.
I should be proud. At this point, I don’t even… care that much.
I’m just relieved. How am I supposed to be proud when it doesn’t even matter that much, when it’s not even some sort of huge accomplishment when I’m literally only a Semifinalist because I did okay on the PSAT, which is one standardized test, and I’m literally the stupidest person, and I’m not accomplished or intelligent in any way. I’m literally the dumbest person in the picture.
I can’t even feel proud of anything anymore because I’m just doing what’s expected and what I have to do. Getting straight A’s, being in the NHS, applying for Finalist status, those things are just what I’m supposed to do because that’s what my brother and sister did. They’re not even that goddamn hard.
It made me want to fucking cry when random classmates congratulated me. I teared up out of this stupid helplessness when our principal and teachers congratulated us because they didn’t even seem to realize that I’m stupid and it’s not even that big of a deal because it’s what had to happen if I planned on going to college in the US. It doesn’t even MATTER that I’m a Semifinalist because I’m not guaranteed to be a Finalist yet, and why would it matter if two siblings have done it all before and your dad has been expecting this since you were a dumb kid and you thought you could make it into an Ivy League, which you realized a few years back is a complete joke, since you don’t have enough extracurriculars or volunteering experience, and you’re just fucking stupid and useless anyway.
I’m stupid and I’m not good enough. There’s not enough time for me to be good enough, either. There’s not enough time for me to do anything that will help. I can’t do a lot of things anyway since we’re poor, and we don’t have a car, and I can’t be driven or picked up at any time.
God, I hate my life. I’m not even happy about applying to anything; it’s completely shitty; I’m not well-rounded enough to be a strong applicant. I’m shit. I’m SHIT. I won’t be able to get anywhere but A&M because no one else will take me because I’m not well-rounded.
I’m fucking stupid. I’m fucking useless. I’m CRYING right now and I’ve been trying to hold it back since I got home, but I can’t hold it back anymore and I fucking want to die. There’s this big lump in my throat that I can’t swallow. I don’t feel proud or accomplished or happy for anything.
This is when I think about buying a gun and just killing myself. Sorry, it’s true. I’m 18, I’m an American citizen, I can own a gun now. So fuck my life, I don’t even want to care anymore. I can’t stop caring when I’m alive.– But what is WRONG with me, oh my god. Why can’t I stop thinking about killing myself? I’ve been thinking about it since I was 12 or so. My suicidal thoughts have progressed from a casual “if I killed myself today, I wouldn’t have to face the whispers and gossip tomorrow” to “fuck, I hurt all over inside and out, I can’t imagine living through this stupid anguish anymore and all I can think about is being dead, because there’s this pressure in my head and chest that makes it feel like I’m already dying”.
Well, at least the only thing I’m sure of is that I’m not going to go to homecoming. I’m bitter and salty about it, but I don’t have anyone to send me home after the dance ends at midnight, so, since I don’t want to get abducted and raped and murdered while walking home in a dress at one in the morning, I’ll just not go. No one asked me anyway, so.
I just told my friend that I’ve been “having a cry” since I got home, which is true, but I regret telling her that with every fiber of my being. Talk about awkward. I should stop letting people know I have all these fucking disturbing emotions; it’s just awkward and ugly and they can’t help me deal with them anyway. I don’t believe in telling friends about really dark emotions; it’s such a selfish thing to do. I 100% would never tell my parents about them, because they never understand, and they always make me feel worse. Honestly, they’re shit at handling emotions. Even my mom, who is a great person, can be completely terrible and callous.
I have to do homework. I’ll manage to do it all by tomorrow since I’ve stopped crying for a bit. I’ll cry more once I’m in bed. I’ve been crying at night very frequently; sometimes it feels like I’m being squeezed into a little dense core of darkness. I want someone to hug me, but at the same time, I don’t want anyone to see me being so weak and pathetic. And hugs won’t make anything any better. Now I’m tearing up again; I’m useless.
It never gets better. I’ll never get better. I’ll never feel better. Nothing ever matters, and nothing will ever be enough. I’m so sick inside.
Was it even worth it, sticking around so long? I should’ve just killed myself years ago. Then at least no one would have had to be bothered by me. I haven’t been improving; I read my journal from earlier in 2016, and I sounded a thousand times happier and more optimistic than I was by the end of last year. I’m never going to be happy without all these moments of wanting to die attacking me. Can you believe that I was actually HAPPIER just a year ago when I already thought a lot about killing myself? Isn’t that just proof that my emotional and mental health has been steadily deteriorating and that I should just stop trying altogether? I’m never going to get better; I’m only going to get worse. I’m a horrible disgusting stupid hopeless person and I’m never going to feel any different. I’m never going to be happy or lovable or successful or interesting or beautiful or anything else that’s good.
Why is it getting so bad?! Why NOW?!