This whole blog post just rambles on for eternity on nothingness.
I've been working on a poem (completely forgetting my psychology studying)
but these words from the ink from the body of a rotting heart, pulsing red-hot blood…just jumble together and don't make sense.
In my school's poetry club, another sophomore wrote a poem about me-how I used to giggle and smile and now I don't anymore. Lol.
Since Sept. 7, I've become rotten to the core, angry and so terribly negative.
I don't blame anybody for wondering anything…
Lately I've been finding myself thinking negativity about people I've never talked to before. The…people I don't associate with (which is practically everyone…) Especially with loud kids…
if they start shouting outbursts in class…ridiculous thoughts and theories pertaining to the lesson or anything at all, I end up wanting to strangle their stupidity all away.
It's just…people have good points and bad points.
In school, I'm really quick at picking up patterns and applying the question "why?" to lessons, which really helps me get work done quickly and accurately-especially in Algebra 2 (THANK YOU, ALGEBRA 1) and chemistry.
Not everyone can do that…for other people, it'll take a while before the information soaks into their brain…and by the time it has, I'm already done and filling my boredom with more negative thoughts.
But of course I'm jealous…what those other people have is…confidence…social flexibility…bright personalities….
People say that I look sad all the time…I'm a downer. Lol, suppose I can't be everything. Well….
So anyways, I've started thinking negative things about the poetry club members—the one club that I can stay after school and enjoy…the only atmosphere I can feel comfortable in…
but most of the poetry doesn't "wow" me, so I spend my boredom and disappointment pointing out flaws (in my mind.) Of course, it's high school. You can't really expect professional work.
The guilt eats away at me every day…
I wish I could ditch this makeup-I wish it were that easy to say something, and just feel so confident doing it. I wish I could run away? Yeah, okay.
Time for realism.
I think psychology is seriously something I want to live for…you know?
Reading the latest psychology news just makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside…but here I am…a kid being eaten away by the world, insides out.
But at least I'm not taking that "emo" path anymore. I've tossed self injuring behind me…the idea of hurting myself (which lasted…4 years now) reminds me of how spoiled and simple minded (and greedy) I was. How immature and STUPID I was.
I no longer believe I have a right to even try "cutting" and other methods ever again.
I never had the right to start in the first place.
I've never really gotten to the core…never really wanted to admit, but…
I first started "self injuring" when I was 11. I read it in a few books (I was a precocious reader for my age.) Laurie Stolarz's "Red is for Remembrance" first brought the whole idea up…
What they say is true…the more media coverage on self injuring, the more kids start doing it.
I didn't understand what it was. So I'd take pencils, idly poking holes in my skin-not huge, gaping holes, but simple (and dull) marks.
By the time I was around…12 1/2 or 13ish, I started taking dull things-like knives or pencils or the dull tips of nail filers, and I'd gash shallow lines on the top of my left arm. These marks would go away within 2 days, top.
At age 14, I think…I discovered the razor, blah blah blah. Started cutting deep enough for actual beads of blood to drip down my arm. Of course, the sharp pain always scared me and I'd retract from cutting (for that session.)
But each time I used the razor, it just got deeper and deeper. One day, I carved a line down my thigh, claimed it was my dog. Actually, as ridiculous, narcissist, and out of line this sounds…the bandage on my leg actually looked kind of sexy. e_e I don't know,
I think all of my stupid anime obsession in the 5th grade has poisoned my mind.
One day, I took the razor and left scars (across the road) in a pattern on all of my arm, elbow to wrist.
The last day, a 4 month relapse I think, I cut deeper (of course), and now I have a few scars on my skin that won't go away whatsoever.
They're textured, a dark pink, and shiny in light….considering it's been…5 months?
I've lost track of time.
I'd also swallow chemicals down my throat, killing my insides.
But I'm still alive, still living, and the self injuring never solved a damn thing, just left marks that I try to hide from people.
But the punk kids here, they all cut and show it off, admit to it, whatever.
I just really don't understand Texas.
I've skipped out on my pills for the last few days…my Synthroid for my Hypothyroidism. Probably only have taken 2 daily pills for the past 6 or 7 days. So I'm getting moody, twitchy, impatient…I can't focus on things that well. Guess I'm just too lazy to take them or something? I definitely should, this isn't good.
I'm getting so irritated, I'm claiming I want a cigarette, just to ease everything.
Nicotine-wise, I've only smoked twice. I'm probably just fucking up my life, but then again-I'm just another human.
With the career I want…it's not like I'll become insanely famous or become some huge leader of some sort…I won't get that much recognition, especially if I don't do anything amazing, research-wise.
I want to help revolutionize the world,
but, being one person, I can only do so much according to my skills.
I'd love to become a medical experimental scientist…work with HIV and Cancer…I'd love to waste my money building houses and wells in Africa…I'd love to help educate children in developing countries (WITHOUT FORCING MY OPINIONS ON THEM.) I'd love to help…develop new ways to help the earth and "stay green." Love to help people out that actually deserve it.
But I can't do all that-no one can. We have to work together, but I'm extremely limited. I'm good with psychological science…I'd LOVE, absolutely to pursue it. But that only can help the psychological world…there will still be world hunger and dirty water…there will still be ignorance and lack of education…and hate…and poverty…and people in sorrow that will live their whole life through a world of pain, birthing to hell and dying to a hell…
We Americans just…don't get it, sometimes.
If the whole world was "developed"…what'd happen to culture? Would that just give some more time for racism, hate, labels? When there's no one left to help (which is a goal that will never happen,) what are we left with?
With time, every single thing will still fall apart.
My fingers are getting irritated with me (if that makes sense.)
I really need to start taking my pills again, I feel crazy. Lol.
Well, that's enough of rambling, then.
Good night, Depression Tribe.