freakgoddess

low place like home
2001-05-15 15:11:19 (UTC)

to hell with this

i wrote an essay today in english called ruby red. my
teacher practically had a nervous breakdown. it was about a
girl cutting herself, and was v. powerful (so my friends
tell me- it seemed pretty average to me). plus i used the
word fuck a couple of times, and i think it was too much
for her to take in. anyway it got me thinking.

cutting. it makes so much sense- each slash is like a
manifestation of anger and depression. when i have an open
cut, it feels like my bottled up frustration is dispelled.
my friends would kill me if they saw the scars. they're so
ugly i admit- i hate the way bruises and blemishes look out
in the open, when i make them they just look soothing. when
on display they look disgusting. not that that matters. i'm
already so fucking ugly.

god i feel strangled. it's like nothing's in my control,
and it pisses me off so much. i'm just a jealous bitch. i
look at some people, like arianna, and i see everything.
then i look at myself and i feel cheated. or maybe this is
all i deserve. maybe i have more than i deserve. god i feel
so guilty. how dare i feel depressed with what i have, when
so many people have so much less?

that's why i hate people who advertise their problems so
much. especially all those teenagers who just want to make
out that they're so fucked up. it's like 'look at me, i
have a problem'. everyone feels like that. every single
fucking person can feel angry, frustrated, self-hating,
aching, sick of life. just most people deal with it. and to
draw attention to yourself for having natural emotions is
to show the world how undeserving you are of their time.

i would never let anyone know how i feel. i don't want
anyone to have any kind of insight into me. the only things
i can control are my own actions, and the only place that
feels private is my own head. if i let someone in i would
be so utterly stripped of protection and respect.




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