i'm just your average eighteen year old girl, if by average you mean unstable, in love, and overthinks everything.
this is an anonymous blog where i can say the things i don't want the people i know to know.
There are points in my life that I reach. Sometimes they’re brief, and fleeting, sometimes they darken my mind and haunt every one of my thoughts for years. A darkness falls over me, like a black velvet closing curtain ending a bright, successful career. I sink, deeper and deeper into the darkest depths of my mind. I fall into trenches so deep, it amazes me that my mind even holds them. It’s scary and disturbing, these places that exist inside of me. They’re constantly plagued by the morose surroundings of an antique clock- each time brings me closer and closer to my final moments. They remind me there is no escaping death. As much as I’d love to live my life to its fullest, chains hold me down, suffocate any cries that plead for somebody to light a match in the dark, to lead my way out of this fucking place. What is worse, though, is the reminder that everything I love has a time limit as well. Everybody I cherish and hold close will leave. Every last single fucking one of them. So I stop. I ask myself why I’m so wasteful with this precious time, comparable to a grain of sand amongst the vast ocean that is the lifetime of the universe. It blows my mind, how even though I understand this concept, I fail to change because of it. I need help. And sadly, I realize not a soul as powerful as God himself can help me. I can’t help me. So is this feeling hopelessness? Is helplessness really knowledge, and the price for having such a powerful thing balanced out by this tormenting place I can’t seem to fully escape? Sometimes, when I’m alone, I welcome the darkness. It scares me. Can it fully consume me? My being? Turn me into a creature damnable by God? A beast so damaged and hurt it will stop at nothing until the entire world knows my pain? I can’t be the only one with thoughts so abstract, so skewered and warped by a disturbed nightmare that is impossible to wake from. Perhaps this is my final cry to sanity. It’s only a matter of time before I have to let go.
i honestly want to die. the one thing i love hurt me more than i could ever imagine. i don’t know what to do anymore. i don’t know life without him, but i can’t stay with him and let him hurt me and walk all over me like i’m a worthless piece of ass. i’m thinking xanax as a cure. it’s not like he actually fucking cares anyway. yeah. bye.
that he’d praise me as much as I do him… like when it comes to sex. I tell him often he’s the best I’ve had, and it’s more than true, but idk I really don’t get much feedback in return. I don’t want him to lie to me or anything if I’m not the best, but if I am then it’d be a nice thing to know, you know? Meh just rambling. You know how guys like to know their dick is bigger than your ex’s? Well I don’t know about all girls, but I wonder if I’m tighter than his. Now that I’ve made all of your lives sufficiently more awkward, I’m gonna go smoke a cigarette and probably take a nap or do laundry or something possibly but most likely not productive at all.
I’m starting to miss not having friends. I’d rather be lonely than miserable all the fucking time. I’m at the point where I think I just want to change my number, get rid of the negativity in my life and keep my friends who’ve never hurt me. That’s all of about four or five people. I’ll just hunker down and see my friends every once in a while and just try to survive this last year of highschool before I can just get away and not have to worry about anything or anyone but myself. End of story. I’m done.
baby, tell me how you can say those things after you promised me forever and always? I feel like I should just start to get ready for some severe heartbreak here. It’s already starting to crack.
I love how my boyfriend’s blog is basically a place for him to bitch about me because he won’t say it to my face, even though he knows I’m going to see it eventually. Like… ugh.
So about Mike’s texts. Yes, Mike hates Justin. Yes, I’m Mike’s friend. But at least I don’t delete my messages from him like you did from Amanda’s soooo yeah. I told you I have nothing to hid from you and I will be absolutely completely open about everything, so whyyyyy the fuck do you still have to play the tumblr mindgames? Things would be so much better with just a little more communication, love. So much better. But I doubt you’ll see that for yourself. And I’m not going to tell you because you’re most likely going to get all upset and quiet and insist nothing is wrong and blame it on how much you hate your house, or being tired, and it’ll break my heart to watch you battle inside your own mind and I have no way at all to help you. So I’ll sit there and won’t say anything until you start talking to me again. And the entire time I’ll be on the verge of tears, and my chest will feel tight, and it’ll hurt every time my heart beats. But that’s alright, because I never asked you to change for me. And I won’t. I don’t want to change you. I just want to help you, and love you, and hold you. But sometimes you won’t let me do that and it fucking sucks.
And of course, Sam tried to aplogogize to me. She texted me. And of course every single painful detail came rushing back to me like someone bombed the hoover fucking dam. Maybe if I’m lucky I won’t get fucked up and tell him I hate him again. I fucking hate hurting him, I hate seeing him anything but happy. Why the fuck can’t I just make him happy?