Ramblings

I haven't written anything in a while, because I have felt pretty empty. I didn't want to give up the few thoughts in my mind for fear of being entirely empty and hollowed out. But I realized that's it's best to put it somewhere if I'm not going to talk about it anymore. And why not talk? Because it is the same stupid thing over and over again. Nobody wants to hear that after 2 years of counseling, being surrounded by great friends and a solid church, having stellar grades, traveling more than a lot of people do in a lifetime, and being generally liked, I still feel empty.

I still feel totally incapable. I try to use my crystal ball mind and see where I want to be someday, and I see blackness. I see nothingness. I see disappointed people who expected much more from me. I appreciate that everyone believes in me, I do. It should give me even an ounce of confidence in myself, but it only makes me sick about disappointing those people. I am just so tired of being a disappointment. Not good enough. Not talented enough. Not selfless or strong or smart or ambitious enough. I don't know who these people think I am. I am not anybody. I just exist, that's all. And someday they will figure out that somehow I was wrapped in a facade. I am nobody, truly.

I don't feel much anymore. I feel the weight of my exhaustion, and I feel joy at moments with my friends. But mostly, I feel dead inside. My spring break was the first life I have felt in myself for ages, but it doesn't help any. I just go back to that dead place once the excitement and energy is gone. I can't live on vacation; I have to live in reality, where I die every morning. And dammit, I don't know why I am dead. Like I said before, I have no reason to feel this way. I used to, but I have healed. So, what is this self-hatred about now? I just keep thinking I could sleep forever. I can't think straight, not about school or about what to do after.

I flip between the suicide blog and Facebook, and both make me feel just as alone. You would think a blog full of depressed, suicidal people would come with some level of support, but no, it's just a bunch of bitching adults like me who can't figure out how to do life correctly. I would add to the madness, but no one ever reads what I write. No one cares about my fears and insecurities. And why would they? At least, when I post cutesy things on Facebook, no matter how fake the feeling behind them is, I get likes. I feel less invisible. I feel approved.

I don't know what I'm even saying. I used to write so eloquently, but that was when my brain worked. Now, I can't form coherent thoughts. I just know there's something gnawing at me, and if I keep writing, maybe I'll figure it out. It's probably my hopeless future. I am supposed to be somebody. All of these people invested in me so that I could be someone and something special. But I am such a fake. I have no ideas. I have no drive. I just want to sleep. I see nothing after school. I feel like I have to kill myself after that. I can't defer the inevitable, because then they'll know that I was never really meant for anything special and that they wasted so much on me. I have to do it before they figure out what I really am. But I don't really want to die. I just want to sleep and dream beautiful dreams and feel alive and rested and joyful. But that isn't an option. There's only one of those. And it sucks.