I don’t know what I’m waiting for at this point. I mean, I do know what I’m waiting for.. but I feel an aching desperation to get it over with right now. It really isn’t an ache anymore, each day the feeling gets sharper and sharper like I’m being stabbed through the heart. What adds so much misery to all of this is the humilation of it. I can’t help but feel like a teenage cliche, even though my pain is very real. I don’t understand why the go-to response when someone sees signs of this is to degrade them. Haven’t I been degrading myself enough without your help? I understand that my parents have provided all of these material things for me, but I feel a missing piece emotionally. I feel that I have to hide my emotions around them. One of them specifically always acts in anger whenever I cry or struggle to get out of bed. I just don’t understand. Am I that much of a burden to others? That was never my intention, I’ve just been trying to turn myself into someone who can function. Unfortunately, I show no signs of succeeding at that. I was just yelled at by this parent to “get out of my own head”. It’s so much more difficult, impossible even, to do this when I have to let my emotions accumulate inside of me until they spill out and scare everyone. If only I knew how to communicate...
Yesterday I went out with friends for the first time in a while. I consider them to be my only actual friends - just two people. Yesterday made me even more aware of how little I can deal with human interaction. Whenever they wanted to do something I didn’t want to do, I became unreasonably upset - although I’d like to think I hid it well. They didn’t complain. If they then suggested they would go off and do that thing without me, I became horribly jealous. It was all over the most trivial little things too. One of the two I have been friends with for a while longer than the other. I think I got so used to only having one friend that I can’t handle the fact that she has other friends and other plans. The strangest part of my jealousy is that I don’t even enjoy interacting with people as much as I used to, including friends. My relationship with people is complex. I’m a people-pleaser who hates people. The thing is, I don’t want to hate people. I’m not sure you could even call it true hate. Beyond my control, this terrible thing that is always hanging over me makes it a challenge to treat people the way I want to treat them. I often times go out of my way to help others, but in conversations I struggle to not come off as rude because I get so fed up with every little thing. Despite my attempts at kindness, I get so easily annoyed. My annoyment quickly turns into something much bigger. I was just thinking back to a girl in one of my classes this year who I told several people I hated. I realized that she never really did anything deserving of my hate. She just mildly annoyed me. My emotions feel like they’ve been put in a blender and have turned into one big, mixed up mess. I find it funny how despite all of this, I’m nicer to people than the other kids around here that will live to 90. At least I try.
Now that it’s been 8 days since summer break has started, I’ve been thinking about how much I couldn’t wait for this break to start. I would remind myself in my head that I just need to pull through a little longer and then I’ll be free. I should’ve known that a different setting wouldn’t be a miracle cure. Now I just have more time than ever to let my destructive thoughts consume me, but I don’t have enough energy and motivation to do anything productive instead. This just goes to show that no matter what situation I’m in, I can’t get out of this. My mind won’t let me. Lately I’ve been realizing that I have no true identity. I feel like so many of us don’t have one, and we just become what we consume and what we see others doing. That disturbs me. I’ve been feeling shame over those around me who claim to love me not knowing what I have planned as I try to act normal. The only reason I have any hesitation is because of those around me, not out of my own safety. It’s so wrong to do this to them, I wish I didn’t feel like I have no choice - but I do. I don’t know who I am, yet somehow I hate who I am. I feel like an embarrasement to the entire world no matter what I do. I think I’ve been too attached to my parents for too long and now I don’t know how to function as an adult without them. I can’t handle the loss of the warm feeling of security they bring. Either continuing to live or choosing to die, I believe that I’m a burden regardless.
As I was writing the draft of this in an old notebook, I found pages from when I was a child. The first one told of this girl named Amy who was starting the first day of Kindergarten. She hid her backpack from others for no apparent reason because she was so insecure. That was me on the first day of Kindergarten. The name change proves how I’ve always wanted to disassociate myself from my insecurity, yet its always been there. Another old entry tells of a friend who I swore with complete certainty would be my “best friend forever ‘til the end of time!” I haven’t been friends with this same girl in years. We haven’t even talked. I’ve always been yearning for infinite love and devotion more than anything else in this world. This has always broken my heart and left a nasty, gaping wound because that just doesn’t exist in this world. I cry thinking of child me. I’m mourning myself. I feel guilt for not still being her. I’m disgusted by the loss of innocence and wonder that everyone goes through as they age. I felt fulfilled and happy then, even without doing much. Something has changed.
I hate how I’ve always had unrealistic dreams for my future. I know I’d never be satisfied with a typical job and typical home and family life that most people have. I just want something more than that, but I don’t know how I could accomplish that. We’re always told to dream big, but our dreams get shot down whenever they span beyond the limited life we’re expected to live.
Continuing with my trouble communicating with people, I’ve gotten so tired of putting on personas during conversations with friends and acquaintances. When I mention my mental issues to them, they always write it off. I don’t know if they think I’m joking or just saying what so many teenagers say without meaning anything. When I’ve acccidentally said too much, they seem to want to tell on me like a child instead of wanting to help me. It’s like they want to be the heroes that save me so they can be praised, not out of concern for me. It’s too late anyway. I’ve been hanging on for so long and it’s just gotten worse than ever.
One of the main things I hate about myself is how obsessive I am. It’s exhausting to me and bothers those around me. It’s not the kind of thing that I can just turn off, even though I’d love to. People just don’t seem to be capable of understanding that you can’t magically get rid of traits like that. It’s how my brain works, unfortunately. My picky eating is another thing that I hate about myself. I’m horribly indecisive about everything. I annoy my family so much with how I can’t even decide on what I want for dinner or if I’ll go to the grocery store. This is another thing that I can’t turn off, but it makes those around me think I’m impossible to deal with.
I feel this strange feeling of being restrained in public places, especially school. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like I struggle to speak and move when I’m in school. Everything feels so exhausting and impossible.
I’ve been looking into reports of near-death experiences. Most of them claim to have felt endless comfort and seen beautiful beams of light. I feel reassured knowing this, but I also want to still be able to experience the best things of life such as hearing music, dancing, and talking and playing with loved ones. Maybe the lack of stimuli will bring me peace though. I think we manufacture most of our stress with how fast-paced and relentless daily life tends to be with 9-5s and the need to consume more and more pointless things.
My negative moods have been showing more and more to others. The last week of school I had teachers look at me funny and ask if I was okay. That doesn't usually happen. Lately I've even been making myself physically sick from how overwhelmed and miserable I am. I'm afraid that I don't have much longer until everyone thinks I'm insane.
My voice in my head narrating my thoughts drives me crazy everyday. It gets worse and worse. My head won't be quiet.
I've been thinking about how humans really don't matter nearly as much as they think they do in the grand scheme of the universe. For the ridiculous egos humans have, they truly are the lowest form of life.
I get very uncomfortable when I think for too long about how humans interact with one another. In everyday life, everything seems so rehearsed. What I find terrifying is when we say "how are you doing" when we don't care, giving the other a false sense of comfort or even belonging. The worst of all is when we unenthusiastically say "I love you" whenever they leave for work or the store, or we go to bed. While we do this, we don't bother to stop and contemplate the things they do for us, and how we care for them. It's reduced to a mere line-reading exercise. Pathetic.
I've been looking at rental cars, Uber rides, and flights. I just don't have enough money to pull something like that off. I want to minimize the involvement of my parents and their possessions as much as I possibly can with my plan going smoothly. By next year, I'll be given my own car after I finish the rest of my driver's ed. My mom parks in the garage and my dad parks at the top of the driveway, his car visible through windows in the house. If I make it a routine to park further down the driveway, my parents may not notice the car being gone in the middle of the night. I wonder if I should call 9-1-1 when I get to wherever - probably a forest nearby - so I don't have to message anyone I know for me to be found.
The horror of my parents or my friends being traumatized because of me has been slicing through me every second of every day. I wish they never had to know me. It would be so much better for everyone. I don't think there's any way I could make this less than horrific for them. I'm trapped and the cage has so many layers. I'm watching myself pace back and forth with my head hung low in shame. The room is pitch black beyond the blinding light above me. It's endless. There's no sound.
For whatever reason, I feel this attachment to remaining a teenager forever. It's stronger than just an attachment, it's a true obsession. I find it impossible to imagine myself older than this. It doesn't make sense to me because this has been the worst time of my life. I long for days to be as simple as they were when I was little, but I feel the need to stay the current version of myself. I want to achieve my goals and have a great life as an adult, but I also feel like I can't do that. I'm not sure if I feel like I don't deserve it, or what. I've always had a way of romanticizing things that shouldn't be romanticized. Maybe I do that to my own struggles as a way to make me feel better. The thoughts in my head are so strange because I don't necessarily even agree with them. They don't make sense to me. I don't know how they got there. I don't know why I find it so hard to simply continue living. I don't have any specific traumatic event, it's just that every little thing every day gets to me in a huge way. I can't handle someone even raising their voice at me, it makes me feel like crying. I get furious whenever anyone makes a joke about me.
I've been realizing how sad it is that my entire world revolves around my daydreams. I daydream all day long without breaks. Sometimes whatever's going on in the room seems to blur and I focus solely on some daydream. In these dreams, I always picture either fictional or dead people I hyperfixate on having a great life full of love and happiness. I'm obsessed with imagining other people in love. For some reason, I can never picture this for myself. I find myself much more attached to these characters and dead people than anyone in my real life. It's been this way for years and won't stop. I think it's the root of a lot of my issues connecting to this world.
Just as I thought I should keep going, I've been romanticizing my death again. I've always been obsessed with death for some reason. I didn't think that was anything out of the ordinary until a girl pointed it out in sixth grade when we were at out lockers. She told me that I talk about death everyday. I guess I do, and I just didn't piece together the fact that that's off-putting because of my social issues.
I've been indecisive over where I should go to die. I've always wanted to go to Seattle, so that was my first idea. Getting a weapon through airport security seems like a pain in the ass, so I don't know what to do. Self-inflicted GSW would be my ideal way to go - probably due to my recent obsession with true crime. I really want to go somewhere far away to do it, hopefully reducing how much my family is impacted. I've also always wanted to travel. One of my few specific problems with my life is how I never go anywhere. It's like I've spent my entire life at home, school, or the grocery store. Never anywhere with a beautiful view or anything exciting happening. Last night I was looking for plane tickets to Connecticut on May 1, 2025. Zero Day has been one of the main obsessions that won't get out of my head. I don't know what I could do when I get there. Find some tall hotel and jump off? Just go to the store and get a bunch of over-the-counter drugs to mix together? I can't think of what would really be effective other than the GSW. I can't stand the thought of dying here. Always stuck in this town. Sneaking out and secretly getting on that plane could be the one big adventure that I always wanted. I've never been much of a rebel, despite always having wanted to be a badass. Don't we all? I feel unsatisfied with what I've done as a teenager. Even when I rebel by drinking or smoking, I do it alone. No fun party with friends. I don't go to parties. I barely have friends. This picture of what I want to be, I'm realizing that it's the polar opposite of who I am.