Perhaps the worst thing about being an introvert is desperately wanting to be an extrovert.
Tonight I feel so dreadfully alone, it has become hard to breath.
My best friend and I are no longer best friends. There is a strange hollow in my chest that is somehow tight. It takes hold of my lungs and shortens my breath. I do not miss her, but I miss having a her.
I have spent the majority of my high school career in the shadows, waiting patiently for someone to turn on the light. I realize now that no one will turn on the light: only I can. The only problem is, I can’t find the switch.
I want to be able to talk to people without feeling like I’m doing it wrong.
Just to start things off, we hit 40 followers! I know that might not seem like a lot to some bigger bloggers, but to me this means everything. I started this blog as a way to relieve some stress, but now people are actually reading some of the stuff I write. Im not going to lie, thats both terrifying and exhilarating. Anyway thank you.
Let’s talk about school:
I joined a writing club at school. It’s really informal and my english teacher is just letting kids come and write poetry, but I really love it. I’m entering some of the things I’ve written on this blog in a poetry contest. If anyone has any feedback on any of my poems that would be very helpful.
Junior year has been hard. Pressure from my parents to do well has increased to a point where I can’t do anything without thinking about my future. I’m taking the SAT soon, so let’s all cross our fingers that I do well.
I’m not as depressed as I was. I’m genuinely happier. I write about a lot of depressing posts, but I write those when I can feel that little dark part of my mind grow. When I write, that darkness seems to shrink into a manageable size. Thank you all for reading.
I look over the ocean as it tugs at my toes. Angry waves crash, leaving white foam behind. My sisters walk behind me with freckles blooming on their noses. A gust of wind pulls the hair from my face. The beautiful beach of Gulf Shores, Alabama stretches out around me. I stand there, basking in the heat of an unforgiving sun and allow sand to cling to my ankles. I don’t care about a thing. A left all of my worries and stress at home, I left that in Colorado. Right now, I’m free from everything. Sure, I would prefer a quiet meadow under a cloudless sky full of stars, but this is still bliss. For the first time in a while, the summer doesn’t seem daunting. I’m not afraid of the lack of structure that kills me every year. No. This year I won’t let it affect me. I won’t let my thoughts take control of me because I don’t have school to take hold of my brain. I will make an effort to hang out with my friends. To reconnect with old ones. Maybe make some new ones. This is my sixteenth summer and it will be wonderful.
I am not naïve. I am not weak. I am not stupid. I know that people are hurting. I’ve seen it. I may not drink or have sex or smoke pot, but, my dear friend, do not be mistaken. I know it happens. Why do you look down on me? Why do look at me like a child when, in fact, I am older? It’s almost like you pity me. You pity my lack of recklessness. Well, I am afraid that palace you have built will fall. You will no longer feel like you’re on the top of the world when you wake up with a splitting headache and a few sparse memories you regret. I may hate myself for letting my teenage years pass me by. I may even hope for a another chance. I will, however, never hope that I am like you. I will never wish for your condescending glare or your harsh tongue. Do not treat me like a fragile piece of cracked china. A piece that could break with the slightest touch. Look at me as an equal. An equal with different experiences and a different past, but a fellow human being none the less.
I’ve been on antidepressants for about four years and I stopped taking them couple of weeks ago. Being on meds for me was interesting. I started going on meds in the sixth grade and now I’m in the tenth. I have next to no memory of my life in middle school. I remember who my friends were and favorite teachers were, but I don’t remember any events. I don’t even remember much from last year. It’s kind of scary how much of my memories are missing. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to make memories now and maybe learn how to cope with something I’ll have to deal with forever. I also did something very stupid. When I decided not to take my meds anymore, I didn’t slowly stop taking them. I just decided to quit taking them abruptly. I felt like crap, not just emotionally, but physically. I was bloated and couldn’t focus on anything. Every time I moved, I felt like I was being shocked throughout my body. By the time spring break is over, the medicine will hopefully be out of my system. I can’t help but wonder what it will be like without them during school. I’ll keep you guys posted.
I can’t seem to get a grip on my reality and my memories won’t stick in my brain. My life should be excitement. I mean, I have all the ingredients most deem necessary, but something’s missing. Time is slipping through my fingers and I’m running out of it quickly, but he won’t give me much more. I repeat the same tasks over and over again. I wait for something to change, but it will always be this way. I’m running in circles, but I can’t break the cycle. It will always be this way.
As I walk through the halls of my high school, my legs trudge through syrup. I run on a motor being powered by fumes of left over gasoline. My friends are slipping through my fingers like water and I can’t make it stop. But I don’t want to. I don’t have the energy to stop them. I’m balancing in the middle of good and bad. Emotions attempt to break into my mind, but only graze the surface. I feel nothing.
As I look at the familiar faces that surround me in a classroom, I begin picking out different personalities. Each person has a certain style, taste in music, and hobbies. But me? I am afraid that line is blurred. Depending on who I am near, my interests morph into something new. I don’t know who I am. I could not explain to you my personality because it changes to much to be identifiable. I know I should just be myself, but how can I when I don’t know who I am? How can I be myself when I don’t know who I want to be? This may just be apart of growing up, but it’s so frustrating.
I have only been someone’s girlfriend once and I wasn’t a very good one. Affection just isn’t something I am very good with. When I was dating this guy, lets call him M, he was almost afraid to touch me. We were dating for about four months, but we knew each other for about a year. He was one of my best friends, but when we broke up a month ago he didn’t seem to understand why. I told him it was because he didn’t seem to want to touch me. I can’t help but wonder if I just put off that kind of vibe. Maybe there’s some sign stuck to my forehead that says “DON’T TOUCH.” I’m almost sixteen and he’s the only guy who has shown any interest in me and even I was the one who practically made him go on a date with me. I guess this whole “girlfriend” thing just isn’t for me.