About an hour ago, I was sobbing on the bathroom floor for no apparent reason. Just broke down, and it's as if all I want to do is die. I just want to be erased, to disappear, to never have existed. I feel very miniscule and all I want to do at the moment is curl up into a ball, and dissolve into the air. If only, if only.

Welcome to the reality, Paige.

About 5 minutes ago, I was laying on the bed, and I think the one thing that kept me from that empty feeling, that utter, infinite despair-was the assurance of some vision I kept on having. Just this image of me…jabbing a knife straight into my right thigh, deep enough to skewer it and brush the bone. For some odd reason, I wanted this imagination to become reality, just to feel that and to be assured by that impossible pain.

This is so odd, because I've never acted like this before, for no reason. I've never lost hope so fast, out of the blue. I feel…diminished, a burden, I feel mental.

Though I'm pretty sure this is an effect of my Synthroid that I forgot to take this morning. They upped my daily dosage, and I've been doing a pretty good and regular job of taking it every day. Up until today. (In which I spent my morning complaining about how my ass is suddenly huge, instead of taking the medication. Ugh, I'm such a typical, spoiled, incompetent teenage girl.)

I used to have a lisp because the orthodontist glued something to my teeth (which in turn, messed up my speech,) until it fell out just recently. So within the past 2 days, I've been given a strange confidence, and coming out of my social shell at school…and I think I've actually opened myself to more vulnerable positions that I never encountered when I was "shy." I'm probably ridiculed, and when I say something stupid, I'm called out on it and feel incompetent and idiotic. But everyone has those moments. I guess I'm just not used to it, or I'm being too whiny, right now-but it's doing a good job of pushing me back into my angry shell. Anger.

In English, we watched an interview between our sophomore teachers and a former homeless man. It went through how he was abused and molested, how he went to juvie, how he lived on the streets and did drugs, and then how he found his savor: Jesus Christ. He narrated about how his only emotion and only feeling during his time on the streets was anger. Kind of like my endless anger this fall.

Then our teacher gave us this long lecture about how everyone has some story, and she can guarantee that at least one of the classmates in the classroom have either been molested or physically abused, and I wanted to just tell her to shut the fuck up and stop rubbing my mistake into my face. I sound like a bitch, I'm sorry. I just…couldn't stand listening to her explaining this. She's worked as a youth worker, social worker, etc, so she knows what she's talking about, but watching my teacher try to explain this to my pre-AP class…it just feels really awkward. Some of those kids…are the type you want to punch. The ones who flash money around. The ones who bully anyone different. The ones who hate homosexuals and Jews. The ones who find schoolwork pointless, and would rather focus on their steroid intake for their game. The way I just explained that…it makes me sound like I hate "preps and jocks" and I'm trying to be non-conforming. Or maybe I'm just insane for assuming it sounds that way or insane for assuming anything, and now I'm rambling on and on about everything, and nothing, and anyways.

I just felt the need to get that out of my system.

Out of my system…it seems like that's all my blogs are, these days. Je m'excuse. I wish you happy holidays, and to students all around-good luck on your finals.

I'm just a little kid, so small in the world.

What are we, really?

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