Yesterday, I went off. I screamed. I yelled. I growled. I cried. You name it, and I probably did it.
I’m tired of hiding the person that I really am. The person that I am is an impatient unsympathetic human being. Half of the things that people say are of no importance of me, therefore, I don’t care.
But for the past six years of my life, I’ve acted as if I was such a happy person. Only up until a year ago, did my personality begin to shine through my facade.
I’m tired of pretending to be this…happy person, just to hide the real me. I’ve always say that I’ve hated fake people. I have to say that I’m an extreme hypocrite, because I’ve been acting fake myself.
I’m done with that. What you see is what you get. And if you don’t like that, well too bad.
I’ve stopped cutting, miraculously. I started back at the end of June. But I guess, if I want to harm myself, I need to find a more productive use of my time.
I’ve cut back on my eating, too. A lot. I don’t think I’m going back to my anorexia days, but it’s something like that. I think I ate a granola bar last night. See? Eating.
My migraines have gotten worse, unfortunately. I don’t know what’s wrong. I can’t tell my mom, though. She’ll start to worry again, and I don’t want that. The last thing I need is medication.
School is still easy. I honestly expected more.
I’m slowly coming out to my mom about me being an atheist. We had some stupid discussion about how the world was created, and I told her that I don’t believe that ‘God’, whoever that is, created the world. She nodded and understood, but I don’t think she gets the gist of what I’m trying to say. Perhaps I’ll tell her when I’m older and she has no control of what I do or believe in.
Gah being fourteen. Everyone think that I stare at the world wide-eyed. Well, I stare at the world in disgust. But that’s a conversation for another time.
But despite of all of the ‘positive’ (if you want to call it that) news that I’ve given you, I don’t think that I can take this anymore. Suicidal thoughts have smacked me in the face more than it ever has. I’m thinking of going with my thoughts and just ending this. Death has to be better than living a lie, no matter how much I tell myself that I’m not living one any longer.
I know that this sounds awkward coming from a fourteen year old. You all think that I’m ’emo’. Well, I’m not. I’m a person with real problems, as is everyone else on here.
I don’t believe this, but I actualyl feel better getting this out. I’d write this in my journal, but people find that. Particuarly my mother. That’s how I got sent to a therapist the last time.
I think I should go now. I’ll be back later. Not later, eventually.