My life is so damn confusing. Why is it that I never know if something is going to make me cry, smile or cringe? It really annoys me that I never know if I'm going to have a good day or a bad day.
On some occasions, I'll wake up in the morning, be in a relatively good mood, make plans with people, sometimes even go out. I'll get dressed, do something with myself. And then other days, I can't find it in me to get out of bed. I'll cry about anything and everything, which really annoys me because I hate crying, I won't speak to anyone. I'll stare at the blades that sit by the side of my bed, pressing them against my skin, not hard enough to make me bleed but hard enough for me to feel it.
You see, I haven't actually cut in a few months, which I guess I'm happy about. Well, not really, because the urge to tear into my skin is still there, constantly nagging at the back of my mind. The only reason I haven't properly cut is because I'm starting at a new school in a week or so and the uniform that I'll be wearing doesn't cover my arms. I don't have that many options: either I cut and everyone sees it, I cut somewhere where no one will see or I don't cut at all.
Having experienced having to change in PE and having people stare because I wasn't fast enough to cover my legs or stomach, I choose not to cut for the moment, though I still claw at my face and neck when put in a situation where I experience severe anxiety. I guess I should be proud that I haven't torn into my skin, but I really feel nothing of the sort.
I feel stupid. I always feel so damn stupid. And it really annoys me to be unable to think like a normal, sane human being.
Because my social interactions are fairly limited, instead of having a bunch of conversations with different people I find myself lost in my own thoughts, which is far worse. My thoughts scare me, the way my brain works scares me. The idea of not being able to see a future that I've planned out ahead of me scares me. I'm scared of so many things, really. It's quite pathetic actually.
I wish I could find an 'off' button for my brain sometimes. I wish I could select what goes through my head. I wish I could find people I'm comfortable enough with to be able to share some of my scary thoughts so that the burden would lessen. I'm not saying I don't deserve being stuck on my own, because I do, but I do wish I had someone that I could talk to about certain things, to help me get through the moments when I want to tear at my skin, or tie a rope around my neck or stick my head under the water and not go back up for air. I feel like it would be beneficial. Everyone deserves a friend, no? Surely even people like me, no? I guess not. I guess the lack of social skills and my inability to talk to people and interact with people kind of killed any possibility of a close friendship.
And the worst part? That some people actually tell me of their problems. They come to me so that I can help them and all I can think is 'wow. I wish I had someone I trusted enough to be able to talk about my problems to them'. But I don't. And at the rate I'm going I probably won't have anyone anytime soon. Because I'm uncapable of opening up to people. Even my shrink, who, sadly enough, probably knows more than anyone else except for myself about what's going on inside my head, doesn't even know the half of it. I only tell her certain things and I tend to avoid touchy subjects, which is kind of stupid seeing as that's pretty much what she's there for. To help me deal with the touchy subjects. But I really can't find it in me to tell her really personal stuff. Sure, I talk some about my family life, about my school life, about all that, but I haven't really told her that much about what I feel or the thoughts that run through my head at three in the morning, when I can't sleep.
So I just go on like nothing's wrong, I smile at all the right moments and pretend that nothing affects me and people have started to think that I'm actually getting better. Oh, how wrong they are.
Well. I guess that's just life, right?
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