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Tuesday August 20, 2013 4:12 AM
"What I Never Learned In Study Hall" by Ice Nine Kills
Someone out there made it very clear to me that he or she, most likely a she that I know personally, thinks that I am an attention seeking brat.
Well, to them I say, you are a bit late on picking that up, but that isn't why I have two diaries. It took me awhile to figure out why, but I know now.
This diary is full of my worst nightmares. It is packed tight with my psychotic fears. The only thing it is missing is my new thoughts. My more recent psychotic ramblings. There was a really scary one in there in which I heard stuff that wasn't real and for awhile I wasn't attached but it wasn't serious.
This diary is like a part of me I sawed off of my shiny "new" personality (not new. Just improved.) and I always forget the pain. It's funny, being "happy" really only feels like I'm always kidding myself but I guess that's what happiness is.
All you do is push yourself up and you don't stare at your thoughts. That's why so many people get depressed. We want to examine everything and we worry about what's true or not. I feel like a real person when I'm depressed. I feel like I see things for what they are. I still feel that is true, I feel that being happy is taking 90% of life and setting it on the top shelf, the one that's all dusty.
I used to obsess over really sad things, like dead children and the looming climate change and all the disorder in the world. I took it all so personally. I still do but I pretend I don't. Don't do this. We all need to find our own way. Mine is just plastic, but it lasts.
If you've ever read "The Secret Life of Bees" I feel like May. She took everything bad and felt it like it was her own. I don't quite feel it to her extent and I never really talked about this in my diary but that is my world experience. At first I think, "Wow, I can't imagine *blanks* pain" and then I do imagine it and grows and consumes a little bit of myself.
I don't stop thinking about it. I go crazy.
Anyhow, my other diary is full of my so-called "improved" self. All lies. I'm just a magician.
This is my core. All these words are what are in the heart of me, but for now, I've had to lock them away. I yearn for the day I can feel the comforting deep depression once again. The truth. I yearn for blades, which is why I write here.
God I'm selfish.
PS: It is so incredibly hard, just thinking about school, to imagine myself different from myself last year, my habits. It's all a fantasy. When I feel depressed, I hate it. When I don't, I want it. don't go down that road. You've already memorized it.
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