Serenity.

I keep taking insanely long periods of time away from this blog. I think it's mostly just because I don't always know what to say.

Lately, that little voice in my head is getting louder. And before you all start calling the men in white suits, I'm not schizophrenic. I'm talking about that voice that is constantly putting me down for not being pretty enough or thin enough or smart enough or motivated enough. That evil voice that creeps in like water through a crack in the ceiling. And over the past few weeks, the crack got bigger and bigger until the entire ceiling just collapsed in on me. I had a breakdown. A really extreme one.

There are no words to explain such a feeling other than suffocation and pain. I could not move or talk. I was more scared than I had ever been in my life and all I wanted was to be happy. To feel warm and excited about something. Anything.

It's so hard having so few people I feel I can talk to. I compare myself to everyone, and although their judgments may not even exist, I feel them. I feel like an impostor in so many aspects of my life that I can barely breathe. I feel unwanted and unloved. There are so many things I wish so many people knew, but at the same time it is this whole charade that keeps me going. If no one knows, I can function. Act normal. Seem normal. Smart. Kind. Funny. But if no one knows, I can't breathe. And I won't be accepted for who I truly am. Because who I truly am is no one special. Who I truly am is selfish and mean and unintelligent. I put so much effort into making people think I'm something I'm not. It leaves so little room for anything else.

I don't know what to do to fix myself. To repair the defects and perfect myself before anyone can see me. I just want to be perfect.

I just want to be happy.

Paradise.

You know when you feel overwhelmed? And you're just kind of frozen? Like you don't know what to do, so you just don't do anything.
It's times like these that I sit and I daydream. I let my thoughts carry me away to a blissfully simple place. A place where no one expects anything of me or judges me or pesters me for things. A place where I am accepted for who I am and I don't have to worry about school or college or money. Paradise.

I hate it when people don't understand me. I mean, maybe it's my fault for not being straightforward enough, but I just get so irritated at times.

I want to escape from my life right now. The weight of the world is just too much for me to withstand. If only I could escape.

"When she was just a girl,
she expected the world.
But it flew away from her reach,
so she ran away in her sleep.
Dreamed of paradise;
Every time she closed her eyes."

Just Like a Star Across My Sky.

There are times when I'm not sure how I feel.
It's like the emotion signals firing to my brain are always in extremes, and they are constantly shifting.

Exuberant.
Devastated.
Enraged.
Calm.
Stressed.
Excited.

It's like I can't decide how I feel about anything. And I'm constantly second guessing myself. I don't know what's causing it, but it's an uncomfortable feeling. Like my head is trying to break free of something I have yet to understand. Like something is transforming. Changing.
I don't know if it's for the better. But I hope it is.

Here's To the Greater Things in Life.

It seems like ages ago that I last wrote in this.
A lot has happened. I feel like a new person.

At this moment, I am content. I am dealing with life as it comes to me. I am improving my ability to handle stressful situations. I am striving to improve every single day.

It doesn't feel like autumn, but it's here I suppose.
Leaves are falling. Leaving the trees to free them from the burden they have become. Leaving. I wonder if that's why they're called leaves.
The thing is, they come back. It never fails. Each spring, they return. New, bright, and full of life.

They always come back.

"When the night will begin, the pain it won't end,
Even if she falls in love.
Back, you wanna turn back, your heart will attack,
Even if she falls in love.
Try to look in her eyes, the light is just right,
Even if she falls in love.
And it isn't so bad; it's driving you mad,
Even if she falls in love."

In Summer, the Song Sings Itself.

It hasn't quite set in yet.

Summer.

It feels unreal. Like it should still be thirty degrees outside and snowing, because too little time has passed since the last time it was.
I'm so happy it's finally here.
I love the feeling of the sun all over my skin, kissing me golden; painting my hair the color of the marigolds and sunflowers blooming left and right.
I love dancing barefoot in the hot summer rain in a brightly colored dress, drawing stares from anyone who considers ordinary behavior to be a mandatory ordeal.
I love riding through my neighborhood on my bright red and white bicycle, feeling eight years old again as the warm breeze sings in my ears.

That's what summer is about, isn't it?

Putting everything painful and unhappy behind you. Starting anew.

It brings out the best in me. I feel the only time I am truly at ease is in the months of June, July and August. I feel like the real me.
Squealing as I run barefoot through grass; smiling as I close my eyes and stare at the yellow sun behind my lids; breathing in the sweet smell of the things nature only presents when summer comes along: lilacs, the pavement after it rains, water brought to life only when I disturb its gentle surface.

I love it. All of it. If I could, I would have it be summer all of the time.
Because in the summer, the song sings itself.

Cry, Cry, Baby.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't the way I was.

I wish I was the honors student, the one who had a passion for learning, athletics, volunteering, you name it. I wish I wasn't such a disappointment to everyone around me.

I wish I wasn't such a disappointment to myself.

That's what I sit and think about: The fact that I'm wasting my life. The fact that I'm nothing more than a waste of space. I think of what it would be like if I experienced an 'It's a Wonderful Life' scenario. Most times I don't believe it would be the way it is in the movie. That it would be a sickening prediction of mine come true: I'm not necessary.

I look at my mom, and the stress she's under constantly, how hard she works to please everyone but herself, and no one takes the time to notice. I realize she probably runs through the same scenario herself, and feels almost as hopeless as I do. It makes me sad.

Then there are the times I think:
"Is there even a point to this? I don't feel like I'm accomplishing anything. I don't feel like I mean much. Am I supposed to be doing something? What's the point when I only have a few decades left anyway?"
Those are the times I feel the most hopeless.

It's just like a friend of mine said to me.
"Truth is, very few of us actually make a difference in the world. Most of us will never mean anything to more than a handful of friends and family."

I told that person I was determined to make a difference. That I would prove them wrong. But now, as I think about it...What's the point, really?
What's the point of life?
What's the point of even being here?
What's the point of living?

Emotions Suck.

I wrote this a while ago:
http://www.writesomething.net/you-know-whats-fuckedi-liked-you/1781241.html

I don't even remember writing it.
Emotions are funny that way, aren't they? I was so angry; so overcome with it that I wasn't even controlling my fingers on the keyboard. Not consciously, at least.

Sometimes, I wish I could control my emotions.
I hate that I blush when I'm embarrassed.
I hate that my palms sweat when I'm nervous.
I hate that I get butterflies in my stomach whenever I so much as think that a cute boy is looking at me.
And I hate my anger.

My anger is so unique. I don't throw things, I don't yell. I seethe. I write. I sit there silently, my head feeling like it's about to explode.
Sometimes I feel like that's more dangerous than yelling or throwing things.

Just because something is contained doesn't mean it will stay that way forever.