watercolored-life

[watercolored-life]

There’s no space for failure. Failure means death. I have no wiggle room. Failure costs money, time and connections that I don’t have. I simply do not have the room to fail. My parents wouldn’t ever let me move back in… no matter what. I can’t get a job without a college degree. If I don’t go to work then I don’t eat. I don’t have room to fail like other people. My parents aren’t backing me financially, they don’t even fucking talk to me, why would they help me? I don’t have room to fail. I can’t fail.

[watercolored-life]

So yeah I’m a little fucked up. My head is foggy and I don’t know where the bruises on my legs came from. I can’t get anybody to like me and I’m always saying the wrong things. I’m so tired all the time and none of my redeeming traits remain.

[watercolored-life]

I love girls. I love raunchy girls who swear and make too many sex jokes. I love girls who aren’t afraid to laugh too loud and be rude to boys.

[watercolored-life]

Th panic threatens to choke me suddenly. Bubbling up in the thick of my throat like all the monsters I hid from in the dark as a child. I miss it. I wish I had something to go back to. I try to swallow it and fake bravado but it’s so hard when everything is crumbling before my eyes. My life is quiet and lonely. Books with ripped pages and thousands of words I’ve written for someone whose lips don’t say my name anymore.

[watercolored-life]

You with your California plates and all daddy’s money and me with my ripped shoes and broken home. That bus station is waiting for me and the cigarette he’s smoking smells like my childhood. I’m tired of having nothing to go back to. I hope you’re keeping some kind of record now that you are living for nothing.

[watercolored-life]

I just finished hanging out with some friends and I don’t know what is wrong with me. I just can’t help thinking the whole time that I am being weird and annoying and all the things they must hate. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I don’t know why I can’t just be normal and have a good time instead of constantly worrying about how they are seeing me. I can’t just come home and be fine with the night out. Instead I have to sit in the car while tears freeze to my cheeks and I listen to sad music.

It just feels so heavy. Like there is nothing ahead. No light at the end of the tunnel. I hate myself that I can’t just hang out with friends on a Friday night like a normal person.

[watercolored-life]

Another late assignment, another skipped breakfast, another missed class, another missed workout, another lonely night, another dirty t-shirt, another fake smile, another day spent hanging on by my fingernails.

[watercolored-life]

Why don't they understand that I am trying so hard? I am trying so hard to be happy and make things work and not cry and wish I was dead constantly. They don't get it and I don't think they will. I wish I would disappear into the floor, I wish I was dead and gone and anywhere but here. Why don't they understand how hard I am trying and how heavy it all constantly is? I can't do it any longer. I fell like there is a weight on my chest. I am drowning and I haven't taken a breath without the sea air killing my lungs for weeks now. I am unhappy. and not only am I so unhappy, but I am finding comfort in my ugly misery. It has become the only place I can come to for comfort anymore. I wish I would have done it. It wish I would have left my life in the past where it belonged. It certainly would have made things easier on myself and everyone around me. I am such a burden to those I seem to care about that they cannot even bother to stay on the phone with me for more than five minutes. I'm so messed up in the head and I don't know how to fix it. It's all so heavy that it's crushing my rips and my skull.

I tried reading and making friends and being active in church and drinking more water and exercising and writing so much I couldn't see my pen anymore and throwing myself into school and learning all I could and crying more and getting little treats and taking pictures of the little things and journaling and eating breakfast and watching TV shows I like and calling my mom and playing sports and playing guitar so much that my fingers bled and writing songs and writing poetry and writing stories and coloring and doing crafts and eating a diet and getting 10,000 steps a day. I tried it, of course I did! Of course I tried everything and nothing worked and I hate myself for it. I hate that I'm so stupid that nothing will work. I hate that nothing will fixt this wretched way that I am. I wish I was gone.

[watercolored-life]

Not self hatred or self loathing, just self indifference.

[watercolored-life]

I always cry on Friday nights. Why do I? Why are the things that are so easy for others, seem so hard for me?

[watercolored-life]

Just a face in a mirror these days

[watercolored-life]

I spent twenty minutes picking out a shirt that nobody cares enough to ask about. Then I spent an hour trying to make friends and nothing happened. Then I spent thirty minutes crying in the car before promptly walking back to my apartment where nobody gives a shit about me.

[watercolored-life]

It just feels like life is so heavy and hard all the time and I don’t know how to fix it. I’m just waiting till the next thing and I don’t know how to fix it. I’m always alone and I’m ugly and I can’t do it anymore. My words don’t mean anything and my life is devoid but I’m trying. I’m trying so hard to create and live and read and learn things but nothing is coming of that. And now I’m stuck in a place that I hate because of a mistake I made that I didn’t know was a mistake. I don’t know what to do because I’m being crushed under this weight. I don’t know how to deal with the helplessness that accompanies ever action I take. My life is meaningless and so I try to write, read, learn , sing, play, do anything to get this out of my head. To feel okay again. I’ve been going through the motions for four years now and I wish it would stop.

[watercolored-life]

They ask me which god I pray to and I say the sound of my friends laughter over the phone. They ask me how I feel the fires of heaven and I say the feeling of companionship over hundreds of Miles away. They ask me how I pray and worship and I answer that I simply try to make her laugh.

[watercolored-life]

Would you call me a slut if I told you I lied constantly in the name of having a human connection?

[watercolored-life]

Feeling like this song lately.

[watercolored-life]

Because I do! I like the foreign objects and unique shoes and the broken things. We are all unique so why wouldn’t we all deserve to be loved and cared for by someone. Even if it is a child who likes broken things, it is still someone.