I hadn’t been sad about this boy all summer, I finally have other worries. I’m miserable but in a new way, and I can appreciate it.
But last night I had a dream I was in his bed again. I still wasn’t happy, I had so much anxiety over it. Looking at myself now I’m a sad, anxious, tired girl. All of my beautiful qualities have been sucked out of me. My personality has been dried out of my soul.
I don’t think I’ll ever be lovable as I once was. But I hope someday someone will look at me and realize I’ve lost it all and it has hurt me so much but still thinks I’m absolutely lovely.
Sometimes I lay in bed and cry at 1am because life is so fucking painful and ugly and don’t tell me growing up isn’t that bad because I’ve had to do it so profoundly and quickly and it’s nearly killed me and my old friends have not grown up and I’ve spent over a year alone trying to fit in somewhere but I’m floating by unable to find a place to make a web. Convincing myself to go to med school. Convincing myself I’ll be happy at that point. But I know I’ll be sadder than ever and maybe I’ll finally kill myself then.
And I’m so sad I’ll never love a boy again. I know I won’t. I am not capable of feeling emotions so deep. That’s what life does to you.