|Current mood:|| melancholy|
|Current music:||just voices in my head...|
i'm so tired of being here, suppressed by all this childish fear...
One word, many, many complications and worries and memories and thoughts and feelings. Why do I get this nagging feeling in my life that I somehow need a boy to validate myself? How does that make me happy? Simple: it doesn't. Being hurt and lied to and left doesn't make me happy. Or maybe so that I can finally feel good about myself? It's pathetic to think that I need boys to make me feel like I'm worth anything. I don't understand. Sometimes I feel great about myself. Sometimes I look in the mirror and think, "Wow, I really am a pretty cool person." Then I go out, feeling fabulous, only to be degraded with the uninterest that greets me. Ok, so maybe I'm not as fabulous as I feel. Maybe that is just what I am: utterly un-fabulous. Is something actually wrong with me?
I say that in all seriousness. I know this all sounds awfully self-pitying, and whiny, but I honestly have to wonder. It's not that I want pity. I don't need it. What I want is to know is why I feel so often that I am not good enough for anyone. I want to know why I feel so lonely all the time. Why I can be surrounded by people, but still somehow feel like there is no one in the room but me. I guess once one person who you thought really cared about you makes you feel worthless, it makes you wonder whether everyone else sees you the exact same way. That's not even really that important. It's just going through a lifetime of guys making me feel like I am just okay, nothing special.
I want to be special to someone. I don't want to live through everyone else's romances. I get lost in movies and books, and feel for just a millisecond, that it's my happiness. Then my smile fades when I realize that it really is all just a fairy tale, and that I am a complete loser for buying into it. Life is never like it is in the movies. Sometimes you just go through the winter with cold hands, because there is no one there to hold them. I miss that. I miss that so so very much. Not really the actual action of holding hands, but the feeling of knowing that someone wants to hold mine. That someone thinks about me, and that I am not as alone as I feel, because right now, that's pretty alone.
I really don't write this to get sympathy, because as all who feel as I do, it's the last thing I want. I don't want anyone to feel bad for me, or tell me my time will come. I've been sitting here for almost 19 and 1/2 years with cold hands, and no sprinkles of sympathy can change that or make it all better. It's just something that I have to endure, and suck up. I read back through this, and know you probably all think I am whining and bitching for no reason. (For all like two people who might actually read this.) Maybe it is for no reason. Maybe having too much time to think has taken its toll. I am actually contemplating deleting all this right now, because it's absurdly long and stupid. Really, really freaking stupid. Well, I'm sorry for being stupid. I really want to hit myself and tell myself to snap out of it. I'll probably wake up in the morning, and be like "Wow, I need to stop using my journal to pour out my sad, pathetic little heart, and just shut my frickin' mouth." In an effort to stem the length of this utterly pitiful monster, I actually will shut up now. Damn cold hands. I hate thinking. Good night.
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