you ran away from your uselessness like you had something to prove

i can’t decide if i’m a cynic or not. this is just one of the important choices i make every day. well, and is it really just one choice? or is it like a bunch of choices that add up to one thing eventually? can anyone even add that stuff up objectively? methinks not. so since nobody can really judge me accurately, i’m gonna just call myself an optimist. that’ll show ’em.

i saw a meme that was actually not a meme but just a twitter screenshot passed off as a meme; it said that all kids who read at a 12th grade level in 4th grade are now severely depressed and totally illiterate. i don’t know if this counts as bragging or dragging my self down, but that person has me all figured out.

lol i had a crush on a dumbass in 4th or 5th grade, and i told my friend, and she immediately ran and told him. i lost a crush and a friend that day, so sad. ’cause i, of course, had to explain to his face that i used to have a crush on him. so from then on i just tried not to care for him at all. and the moral of the story is trust no one and keep your feelings to yourself until it is too late to act on them. i’m good at finding morals. also, love is garbage and anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to lead you astray from the light and joy that faux apathy brings. by really, i joke. i mean, if love is garbage and we all deserve garbage, we deserve love. my philosophical depth is awe-inspiring.

elementary school is a haze of bad memories kinda. like there are a few nice bright moments where i felt good about the world and my place in it. but i was pretty damaged as a kid and so it colors every memory in a sadder light if i let it.

they say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and if that is true, i’m dead.

a little dot in the middle of the nation. the heartland. the midwest. the flyover states.

parts of south dakota are beautiful. the black hills, the badlands. mount rushmore was disappointing even as a child seeing it. i would honestly rather see the crazy horse memorial. it’s supposed to be like ten times larger.

i used to say i wanted to have a house built in the badlands. obviously, it’s state parkland so that is actually illegal. that is the kind of illicit activity that i wanna engage in.

deadwood reminds me of dell rapids. i once told my grandma i would retire there, hahaha. i’ve since changed my mind, but it would be nice to see the place again.

over the weekend my mother and i went to the hindu temple in madrid, iowa. i was nervous. i brought a bouquet of coral-colored roses as a gift, which i thought would be nice for one of the shrines.

i’m going to send a thank you card to one of the priests there, he was very helpful. i didn’t ask many questions, but he answered so well and fully that i didn’t really need to. then this morning i did my presentation, and that went well.

next week i have finals, and i’m dreading it. i keep looking for a way out, but i think the only way out is through.

my one teacher hasn’t emailed me back. freaking typical. on thursday i might go to my advisor. or not. i just talked myself out of it. she won’t be any help. there is no help. all the things that are supposed to be helpful just end up making things worse. booooo everything is terrible. i keep waiting for everything to catch up to me. i’m honestly terrified.

i’m up later than usual. i don’t wanna lay down and sleep. once i’m asleep i’m fine. but before i fall asleep and when i wake up are the worst. every little thing comes to haunt me before i sleep. when i wake up, a new day is beginning. and i waste it. no matter what i do it’s a waste. i know i’m just being negative. that it’s all distorted by my current state. but i can’t see the future and if i did i bet i would be a bit disappointed but not really surprised.

i wonder how the people i care about are doing but don’t reach out to them, because they don’t care about me, i think. if they did, why don’t they reach out to me? lol. it’s like i always have this hope that someone will reach out, because i know i never will. i always have this hope an extrovert will save me. silly. hope is another garbage concept that brings all the pain that we deserve. add it to the list. if i was simply indifferent and accepting of my situation, i would not feel as bad. can’t feel bad about not having that which doesn’t exist. lol, if we all just eliminate love and hope from our lives we’ll be much happier for it. haha i’m so bright. like a gigantic ball of fire soaring through space, i bring the sunshine.

yeah i’m going to just drop and be done with this thinking thing. consciousness is wasted on me.

i’ve never seen the desert before, to be so close to nothing

this one’s a doozy.

it just hit me like a truck while i was trying to fall asleep the other night: i wish i had killed my self years ago. i’ve wasted so much time on earth. i used to think i could be a different person if i was just in a different place. but i’ve lived long enough, and i’ve travelled far enough that i know i will never be able to change.

lol i will never be able to put my family through my suicide tho.

yet i can’t stop thinking about it when each day ends. i’m just tired, i tell myself each night at 1am. do you ever get so tired that suicide seems like the only option. lol i can sleep when i’m dead.

i will probably not kill myself. so who the fuck cares how much pain i am in, right?

sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt, and all that shit, right?

i broke down in the doctor’s office crying when the doc asked if i was okay, after i filled out the stupid depression questionnaire.

i just feel trapped, i told her.

and i do. i feel like a pathetic little animal. like i would rather chew off my own leg than live here. lol.

i love how everyone is okay with how much my life feels like hell, as long as i don’t kill myself and make them feel bad. it isn’t about me, it’s all about them. like people are always saying there are worse things than death, but they don’t believe it. people will say anything to me, all the lies, as long as i don’t make that final step off the edge.

as an abrupt change of subject, we ate indian food after the doctor. it was good and spicy. lol my mom is so oblivious to everything, good for her. she thinks today was a good day.

i would do anything to let everyone remain oblivious in my life. but my resolve is crumbling. i don’t know how much i can keep this shit up. i need to speak to two of my profs and ask them for some sort of leniency for my shit attendance and school-work ethic. the other one is the religion one and since i’m getting more than 100% in that class currently, i’m not too worried.

okay for now i’m done venting to myself. what a great way to end the day: whining.

the walls say only they’ll keep me warm

wrote a paper on hinduism. not my best writing, but it’s done and handed in. i say that every time, not my best writing. i feel like i’ll know when i’ve hit peak.

we had gender jeopardy in class today, men against women, and we tied. no one missed any questions. i’m cool with that. it’s nice.

i didn’t sleep well last night. i was up late writing that stupid paper and couldn’t sleep after that. i dreamt about hindu gods and me, crying in a corner. ’twas weird.

i don’t know what to do. i say that a lot. i feel that a lot.

i called my psychiatrist’s office and hung up without making an appointment. there was an opening for may 18, but i don’t know if i can make it til then, so i just said i needed to think it over. i want to give up and give in so bad but i have too many people whose happiness hinges on my continued existence.

i think that’s why i resent love and hope and all the “good” things. i’m a quitter at heart, and things like them won’t let me quit. plus i just don’t think i deserve anything good deep down.

the hindus would probs believe the reason this life of mine is so miserable no matter what actually happens is that i was a terrible creature in a past life. it’s karma. written in fate. i just deserve this. but i’m not actually hindu soo i guess i cannot accurately describe what they believe with any sort of certainty.

have you ever felt like your entire world is tumbling down around you and you’re losing control of everything, the tenuous grip on sanity you had is slipping, but to everyone else you seem fine as all you do to show your despair is to laugh at your own morbid jokes?

it’s like, if they really loved me, they’d see through all the lies i tell them about how great i am doing.

i’m so sad though. talk about self absorbed: every time i think about suicide i make myself think about the ideal effect my death would have, people would be mourning and shit. so i get all sad thinking about it and i know i can’t do it then, but i get sadder and sadder thinking about my death. and it’s like why bother living when all you do is lay around in your spare time thinking about your own death and bawling. well not like literally all you do but almost, i swear.

 

some notes i have. some lively reflections:

we’re actually all just ants on this giant dirt clod. consoling ourselves with our designated tasks until death comes along, and we curl up and die. lol, does that mean all of the deities are actually sociopathic children with magnifying glasses?

yeah, no.

the words tumbled in my mind: a fluid effervescence a bubbling babbling presence. insanity take away my depression, i don’t see me in the reflection.

see, when the apocalypse takes most of humanity in its maw, we will have to revert back to relying mostly on oral tradition. i am mentally compiling memes so that we doomed few to survive the freakish hellhole that the planet shall become, we precious few shall have history…👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

 

patient time will carry me, on her back without a sigh

the basic af poster above my head, 'cause why not go with the night theme

i wake up four times, tossing, turning. force myself back to sleep all four times. finally, the fifth time, i look at my phone to see the time: it is still only 12:30AM. i fell asleep around 10. does time freaking warp when we sleep?

i have to get up around 6. i figure then i get plenty of sleep. but here i am, wide awake. tense. alert. mentally disheveled. it’s that damn paper. i have to write that damn paper tomorrow. it is only four to six pages and i already know the material well, but i’m awake now, my mind drawn to and from the idea of it like a moth to a damn light bulb, and i don’t even feel like falling back to sleep.

i work tomorrow, only 7-12, but i’m trying to rationalize staying up all night and then working and then having all of the rest of tomorrow to write the paper. i’d be tired, and the next day i have to wake up again around 6, go to school around 7, come home around 2:30, and then i can sleep. and the next day i have work. and the next i have class again.

friday, i go to the doctor’s at 9:30. i don’t wanna go and explain everything that’s wrong with me. explain what new meds i’m on and what meds i no longer take. i don’t wanna go through all the hassle of a doctor poking and prodding me. when they hear i have depression, i don’t want them to ask all the questions that come along with that. how often do you think of harming yourself: alll the days, most of the days, a few of the days, or none of the days? ALL THE DAYS.

on a scale of 1-5, how badly do you wanna fuck with death? a solid 4, actually, now that i think about it. which isn’t that bad. see, things are looking up already. lol like the doc will even ask that tho.

now, again, unhappily, i am going to try to fall asleep. i yawn a lot but they’re deceptive. they lure me into a false sense of sleepiness, and then i just lay awake forever, waiting for the sun.

i gazed to the stars and this view can’t be shared

i’m feeling a bit better now that i’ve studied some and emailed one of my profs. less scattered, out of sorts. i have a mission. i have my goal. i just have to get through tomorrow.

i think i miss the days of inspiration, of words. perhaps i should read more. i have a long list of books, they seem like a chore tho. so heavy on my mind when i think of them waiting on me. i feel sometimes like there is so much waiting on me. like if i would only find the door, i could open it and be in a whole other plane of existence. if i would only look at something the right way, i could see the whole freaking aleph.

i used to think i could draw inspiration from my depression, that i could make something beautiful to hold in the darkness. but i don’t know anymore. and i’m so full of self-recrimination, blaming myself for my fickle mind. my mom told me that once, and it has echoed in my mind when i’m feeling especially low: you just don’t want to be happy.

as if i only wanted it more, it would arrive, arms wide, for a sweet embrace, and stay with me always. as if happiness is like some kind of stupid love that if you want it badly enough, you can find a way, simple as that. fuck that noise. if it were only that easy.

but that’s just the way my brain likes to work: sick, and i have to just keep forcing myself out of my oft-run tracks of thought.

i gotta say tho, one thing that annoys me right now is my meds. like, i practically have one to wake me up, one to help me sleep. and i know it’s not a weakness to need medicine, i tell myself that every freaking day. but the sly fox of a thought always sneaks up and grabs the first thought by the throat, gives it a little shake. a twig-like neck-snap later, the positivity is dead and useless to me. ’cause meds are a weakness, the fox-thought whispers. you should feel ashamed, the fox laughs.

so i do feel ashamed. i doubt i would ever name off the medications i am on to anyone other than a doctor irl, ever. ’cause that’s how much that stupid idea has gotten to me.

and around and around i go in my oft-run tracks of thought.

tonight though, i’m only half sad girl, promise.

peace, patted-shoulder fondness, and sleep. sleep, most of all.

when you’re lonely, press play

the trick is to act not just okay, but better than okay. aim for happy, upbeat. smile, laugh, make jokes. it’s easy once you get used to it. even if i’ve just been crying, cutting, thinking about suicide, i can go out and laugh enough, smile enough, lie enough so that nobody would ever suspect. i do warn though, it makes it feel worse, once you’re alone and you can let the mask fall. every friendship feels fake to me because it essentially is faked, by me, quite well. and then while i’m alone i just know that i’ve really always been alone.

last night sucked. night just sucks. i woke up over and over, until it felt like i spent more time trying to fall back asleep than actually sleeping.

ugh, i skipped class all last week. i suck. not to excuse it, i’ve just felt awful lately. i don’t know if this is just a depressive episode or i’m sick or a combination of the two, but i just feel like there’s nothing good in me right now and like nothing is worth doing. but i’m buckling down, doing all the work i have due tomorrow, and studying for the two tests i have tomorrow.

i ran into my stupid professor at work the other day and felt all bad and wrong for missing class a couple of days before. whoops.

easter is stupid. i did nothing for it. celebrations are dumb. being happy is a lie or a dream. i’m aiming for numb now. i’ve said it before, it’s better than this. lol i sound so bitter and sad it’s funny. this too shall probably pass.

and if love is a drug, i don’t want it, because i don’t have any self control

it’s midnight and i’m in the basement because it’s thundering a tiny bit and lucy is afraid.

i had the usual dream that has become rather unusual as my mind tries to buck away from its habitual obsessions to focus on new ones. the old ones, the old dreams are rare now, and made more precious because of it. also more poisonous.

i’m walking through a party, because i know you’re there. but you’ve left. i look everywhere, and you’re gone. you just left the room. you just turned the corner. it’s like a maze of other people smiling and laughing, and me, alone, looking for you. this time i don’t wind up outside in the snow and stars, the dream doesn’t reach this sad crescendo. it just ends with me realizing you’re not there, not anywhere near me.

the dream is a bit on the nose, lol. real life occasionally mirrors it. i find myself at get-togethers, too afraid to be obvious, to ask if you’re there. so i just wander, looking for you..and of course you’re never there. you’re somewhere else, living a different life. i guess i have to accept that.

the last time i saw you i was a different person with a different agenda, a different heart, a different mind. i didn’t know much about anything outside myself. i don’t even know who you are anymore, and i don’t know who, or how, to ask. i don’t even know why i held on to you in my mind, why i ever found comfort in thoughts of star-crossed love, brought to fruition. that path is gone. it’s dead, with all the others. i guess my mind just hasn’t caught up to reality, which is definitely a theme brought up in my life over and over.

sometimes i feel as though i don’t belong in reality anyway. i’ve spent some time apart and i don’t think it lives up to the hype. oh well. as everyone in my life keeps saying, it is what it is. and there is something so final and concrete about that, that i wanna fight it, because honestly that’s my place, i think, fighting things, ideas, concepts, truths. i sometimes just want to ignore the truth so i don’t have to fight it or accept it fully, but that never works for long. something always reminds me of you and i’m back on the stupid, gaudy, rococo train of thought that i’m pretty sure is love, and though everyone’s always spouting on about it, it is the saddest, most futile thing i’ve ever witnessed myself engaging in. so, as some wise, eloquent, probably long dead person said, that sucks.

and unfortunately i’ve found myself agreeing with the naysayers.

i’m here, and you’re merely a gesture in some vague direction to me. that’s how far apart we are, in body and mind. so yeah, sarah, give up, give in. this idea you hold is dead and you’re just sadly, obstinately oblivious to it half the time. and the other half you’re in mourning for it. just let go.

it is what it is.