• i have such issues. damn, where did i go? im seeing a lot of my life in the 3rd person. like, i see it in the cold light of depression a lot, and i get so much insight from this perspective. but then its like, fuck, what'd i do to myself to get like this? i don't know why but i go to school in the morning and i'm in such a crappy mood. then at school i'm happy most of the time, and by lunch if i haven't crashed it's a good day. but i get home and everything just crashes down on my head, the thunderclouds come rolling in. i come here and bitch about my day. wahoo. wat a wonderful existence. some days i come home, and i'm just about ready to burst into tears. like now, after reading revealing_too_much's journal. makes my problems look pretty insignificant. and i know that if i could just let go i'd probably make it alright; but me being who i am (and what i am) i no that i can't let go, i might need to remember this so i dont make the same mistake again. so i can forgive myself, because no one else can or will. ah, fuck. sometimes i just want to run away, from this fucking town, from my parents, even from my friends. but mostly i just want to get away from myself, to stop drowning in my shitty self-pity and invented hopelessness. i know i could be okay if i wanted to. and that's the worst part. I can't let myself go. I'm too concerned with hiding who i really am- which is who you all have met here and learned to despise and ignore b/c i complain about myself too much. i'm too concerned with fitting in and being normal that I can't let myslef go. i'm trying so hard to be normal that i can't. and then i pour everything out here and though i would love to hear back from someone half a world away, someone who doesnt know me, someone who can tell me everything is all right and convince me it's true, i know nobody other than me and my friends read this. so what is the fucking point of this? why do i fucking bother? no one's gonna listen to some bitchy thirteen-year-old and care. i just have to get out of here, of this pattern, of my school, of my own life. i'm the main reason i'm so screwed up and have so many issues. i'm pretty sure i have manic depression. i know i do. and i hide it. the worst part is that i know i need help and dont want it. i don't care how bad my life gets. i dont care about much of anything anymore. a fuck, i'm crying now. and it's my fault cuz i went and put all my feelings down and amplified them. for the whole world to read, to laugh at, to write off as one more fucky hormonal kid. I just... i want... i need... i dont know. or care. i guess i want to be everything i'm not, so i can get the guy and go be some frickin superkid who can go kick some serious ass. it's just...like, whenever i want to pour my soul out to someone i know, i dont want to, because they know me. and they'll try to convince me that i'm an ok person, which i'm not, and that my life is so much better than theirs. which it could be but i'd never know cuz i can't stop drowning in my own problems long enough to watch the people around me. i wanna go home but i dont no where that is. so i pull into myself, where i can be alone, and safe. im willing to sacrifice happiness for the comfort of my own mind. i'm freaking almost crying and i don't even feel sad. just empty. alone. maybe abandoned. and shitty for complaining about things that really aren't so bad. they're only thoughts, after all, not actions that i need to tell anyone about. so many people in this world are worse off than me so i really shouldn't be complaining, but i cant stop myself. really that thought only makes me feel worse. wow. i am such a screwed up little freak. im okay with it if u leave me here with my depression. i dont care about being alone anymore. the shadows of my mind are my company; my thoughts are my music; my tears and my fears, my best friends. it all just comes bubbling up out of me, i dont know where all this crap is coming from. im ready to start bawling any minute. the pain in my soul isn't even mine. or is it, coming from somewhere i can't remember? is it all my own inventions, taking everything too seriously? or is it real? all i know is that it hurts me so much. physically and mentally. the pain is what connects me to reality. and also takes me away from it; i'm stuck in my own in-between universe, watching everything rush past me and being too slow to react to it or grasp it as my life slides through my fingers and shatters on the ground. I had no idea i had so much inside me, so much to let loose, so much to break me apart. and so little to pull me back together. please, if ur out there, let me know. i cant take this by myself any more. email me, KittyKat_13@verizon.net all i want to do is run until there's nothing left, nowhere else to run to. so i'll flee to the shadows lurking in my mind. come find me, the real me, pull me out of this

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