2014-10-25 12:40:44 (UTC)

A Long Apology

"Brackett, WI" by Bon Iver [damn, I can't understand a word he sings but it's beautiful]

October 25, 2014 Saturday 12:43 PM

I'm going to start doing a thing called Memory Of The Day. I've been wanting to do it for awhile.
Right now, I'm remembering the time last year when I saw a girl I knew crying in between two showers in the Girl's Locker Room. I asked her if she as okay. She said she was fine, despite the tears. I left and came back in with skittles. I asked her again if she was alright and if she wanted skittles. She insisted she was fine and did not want my rainbow candies. I came back in twice more. I regret being so annoying especially since she probably didn't want to tell me what was wrong anyway.

I still wonder what was wrong. I still wish I told her that she was a wonderful person. I still feel guilty for that day even though I didn't do anything wrong. It's the kind of thing I think about while staring out a car window.



JOHN DIES AT THE END (be warned, there are spoilers. I'll try and keep my descriptions vague. read if you dare????)

I'M PISSED OFF. First of all, he doesn't even DIE AT THE END. He dies once in like the beginning of the book. Literally EVERYONE DIES but some people don't die but THEY STILL DIE.

That book has no plot at all and it ends in the middle of a motherfucking sentence but that is okay because I love it, I love it, I love it.

I love how in John Dies At The End, characters come and go. You know how in some books, you can tell which characters are important and permanent and you can tell which ones are very minor? It's harder to see that in this book.

This is very important because it stops the reader from knowing who is going to die and who isn't (they all die and spoiler: some come back to life, but whatever).

It reminds me of real life. Some characters take up a big chunk of the book before fading away and... it's wonderful in that way. Time passes and people leave. Minor characters become major in unexpected ways.

THIS IS A REALLY GOOD BOOK. I suggest you read it. It's horror/comedy and is very crude and grotesque, but somehow, it's funny and it captures your attention. It holds the fuck onto your attention until you get pissed off thinking about what happened.

Like I said, there is no particular plot. It's not like, "oh, he discovers monsters, he fights monsters, he defeats monsters, it's over"

He's barely a hero. He's apathetic and was dragged into this fight against his own will and GOD I JUST LOVE IT.


Alright, book ranting is over


How do I feel? Not that great, not that bad. I don't want to go to school ever again but I hate staying home with no plans for the future, too. I kinda wish I could replace school with Peer Leadership because I would totally do that every day.

I'm a bit worried about new people being introduced to the group, including Lily (even though I'm bringing her).

I just got comfortable with everybody who goes to the meetings and I'm worried I'm going to be MORE SHY AND AWKWARD. Also, I can't have sessions with Lily. I just can't.

I mean, I love Lily and she is my top friend but there is something more intimate about telling her about being depressed and stuff. It's weirdly easier for me to sum up my feelings to a mostly stranger but Lily KNOWS I was depressed for a couple years and she KNOWS I was in a hospital and she knows I tried killing myself and ughhhh.

I know she was depressed, too, and she anxious, too and ugh it just... Talking about that seems dirty... it seems wrong, like I'm digging up memories and feelings and the disappointment everyone felt in me, the unspoken thought they all had; "I thought you were stronger, Veronica."

That makes me mad. I was NEVER STRONG, I was sick and a little more naive than I am now so fuck you, fuck you, fuck you and fuck ME because I was dumb, I was so dumb.

I don't think I ever talk about cutting anymore. I remember the disgusted expression on people's faces and I hate the term "cutters". Like I belong to an elite group of emo, racoon-eyed teens with scarred wrists, like it's a joke, like it's a club, ugh FUCK.

The other day, this girl at school who I will call Jamie showed me her cuts real quick. She's a freshman and I couldn't help getting suddenly pissed.

I hate being condescending and all but please bear with me. I'm not better and I'm not much wiser than Jamie just because I was born a year before she was, but I went through this shit and I can recognize the different kinds of "cutters".

I like Jamie, but she is the kind of depressed girl I dislike (I don't want to say hate).

She often grins as she puts herself down. She KNOWS what she says isn't true and she KNOWS that whoever hears her is going to compliment her to try and raise her self esteem.

Fuck, I hate this. It's kind of like a plea for attention. She says she's bad at singing but sings in public anyway. Do you know why? because she KNOWS she's good. She has this vibrato that sounds cool.

She knows she will get complimented. She told me she was going to kill herself the other night. I almost slapped her. Like, fuck you, you're NOT going to kill yourself, all you wanted was someone to tell you you mattered. You don't have to THREATEN TO KILL YOURSELF to let someone know you're not okay. That is too far, and I have never ever done that. I have thought about killing myself and I have admitted to thinking about killing myself but if I ever used it as a reason to get attention, I swear to god, I will choke my past self out.

FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU, JAMIE. I kind of take offense that. I take offense to the scars she is almost PROUD OF.

That especially makes me mad. How the hell can you be proud of those ugly things??? What, you think being broken is NICE? You think it's beautiful?

I'm not going to lie; the darkness is alluring and gorgeous in its own way but if you think depression is a way to attract a caring lover then you are sooo mistaken.

I am so messed up from my years of self-deprecating and cutting. I am so messed up. My social skills were completely obliterated, I can't trust anyone, and I hate being vulnerable.

The depression infiltrated the deepest parts of me and the anxiety destroyed everything in its path.

It's not pretty. Me covered in blood? Not pretty. Snot covered face? Ugly. Me, throwing punches and smashing everything I can find? Terrifying.

That is what was done to me and I am tired of some teenage girls using it as a way to find love.

I am better and more empathetic for those terrible times but STILL. Ugh, I'm sorry, I'm mad. I just feel so... it's okay to be depressed and I'm sure Jamie is genuinely sad but the thing is, I can't feel sorry for the things she does.

I can't feel sorry for her cutting herself because of how easily she shows other people. I can't feel bad because she thinks she understands what death is.

I don't fully understand death but at least I know that is not something you should joke about.

As Brock would say, it's "re-stimulating". I always felt like my feelings weren't valid because I thought maybe I was one of these girls. Or maybe I thought other people thought I was like this.

It reminds me of middle school, my all time low. The way she acted towards her cuts was reminiscent of those times. I am way too familiar with it. I am way too used to acting concerned when really I wanted to strangle her for her ignorance.


Okay... so back to Peer Leadership. I'm sorry I got mad.

I dunno, talking to Lily about the dark thoughts that always swirl around inside me seems.. not right. I am different in real life. I laugh a lot, maybe too much. I poke fun and I'm really annoying. I also stumble on my words a lot and I don't sound as intelligent as I do in writing.

I'm doing good in Peer Leadership, though. I'm really working on that whole "trust" and "opening up" thing that I can't seem to do.

I think I'll try and do another demo because it felt good.

Also, I want people to know me. I desperately need them to understand why I am the way I am. I desperately need them to see more than one side of me so I can apologize.

That's what this diary is kind of for. It's a long, detailed apology spanning years and all I'm trying to do is show you my nature and my thought patterns so that you understand;

I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry for everything.

(for what?)

Everything. To everyone. These apologies, they are personal but not every "you" is the same person.
I'm sorry.

For... for the things I've said, for my pissy-ness. I am so sorry that I stopped talking to you and I am so sorry that I got boring and I am so sorry that I scared you away.

I am so sorry we're not friends anymore and I am so sorry that that's my fault.

I am so sorry that we don't talk like that anymore and I am sorry we grew apart.

I am so sorry that I did stupid things and had stupid thoughts.

I'm sorry I whined and I'm sorry I cut myself.

I'm sorry I was sad and I'm sorry I panicked about things that weren't worth the anxiety.

Please, forgive me for crying. Forgive me for pushing you away.

Forgive me for pulling you too close.

Forgive me for kissing you.

I'm sorry I didn't kiss you back.

I'm sorry I acted like it never happened. That's just what I do.

I'm sorry I got scared and thought taking all those pills was the solution.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I'm lazy, I'm sorry I yelled at you, I'm sorry I picked fights, I'm sorry I cried, I'm sorry it took me weeks to finally clean my room.

I'm sorry I hate walking the dog, I know it's not fair to her.

I'm sorry my opinions were misguided.

I'm sorry you don't see what I see.

I'm sorry I said bad things about you.

I'm so sorry I never told you you are beautiful and I'm sorry I'm acting like it's too late.

I'm sorry I'm always looking for an escape and I'm sorry that I can't remember what else I did wrong.

I'm sorry I tell stupid jokes.

I'm so sorry that I defend myself avidly even when I know I am so wrong.

I'm sorry I talk too much and I'm sorry I interrupt you a lot.

I'm sorry I say the wrong things at the wrong times.

I'm sorry that my muscles tense up when you touch me. I know you so well, why does that even happen? What am I scared of?

I'm sorry that I think paranoid thoughts. You're not going to rape me, I know that. You would never hurt me on purpose, I know that. I don't know why I think these things or why I squirm when we make eye contact. I should trust you but I can't. Forgive me for that.

I'm sorry. The words are losing meaning by now, but really, I am so, SO sorry. "I apologize" sounds too formal. I need my voice to crack when I tell you so that you know that I mean it.

I'm sorry I didn't trust you and I'm sorry this list of apologies is so fucking long.

I'm especially sorry that I still don't trust you. I'm sorry that it feels like I can never trust anyone fully and I'm sorry that I'm difficult.

I'm hard to deal with, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

At some point in this diary, I have said every one of these apologies. I am certain of it. I have probably said more, too. This whole diary is just a background. Detailed reasons as to why I'm kinda fucked up.

Only "kinda" though because I'm getting better and I'm sorry if that makes me less creative and interesting. I'm sorry that I changed and I'm still not sure if this changing is for the better or not.

Yeah. So... in short, I'm very, very, very sorry. I have probably wronged you, whether I failed to reply to your message or I said mean things to you.

Here is an important apology:

I'm sorry I can't even begin fixing the world's problems.