Emily

Day In the Life of an American Teen
2021-03-06 04:50:00 (UTC)

On Second Thought

It's occured to me how much I'm in control of how I feel. It's difficult, but it's still possible. I've decided I'm going to keep writing anyways, and I'm going to leave it public. The thoughts are still all mine. I don't care when anyone else on here reads it, so I shouldn't care when Rachel does.

Of course, now I feel dramatic. After crying for hours and drafting a suicide note. At least I have my funeral plans in case I accidentally die. Accidentally. I have a bad habit of invalidating my feelings just because I feel better.

I haven't written about it but about a week ago, everything became so much clearer. I'm looking through a HD screen now. I can see myself from outside, and I see exactly how everything affects me. I know when I'm crying for no reason, it's the little girl trapped inside me. And when I don't eat or eat too much, it's so easy to see why I feel that way. The other day, I heard Nick and Rachel fighting.
I did the usual. Went to my room and got on my Switch. The only difference is I drank 3 sodas and ate an entire box of cookies. Yes. In the past, I just would've cried and starved myself for overindulging.. It's so easy to see the direct correlation between the most recent event and my actions now. I can't believe it wasn't so clear before.

Like a week ago, I somehow got to thinking about God. Somehow, I got to this crazy, random idea that if I were God and all the cells in my body were my creations, I would not care if they didn't believe and I doubt anyone else would. If some little cell in my palm spoke to me, fucking crazy, and said, "Yeah, I don't believe in you. I have my own conscience and being, so I don't think you're real." I'd just be, "Like, okay?" I can't imagine caring that something so miniscule would believe if I exist or not, because I do exist. Pretty sure. Sometimes I'm not sure whether I'm still in a physical vessel anymore. Anyways, I don't know why but that just triggered something. I don't know why.

I don't know who I am. I don't know if it's the cliche question of, "Where is my place in this world?" or "Do I exist? Am I seperate from my body? What am I?" but everything is just so incredibly clear. Rachel means nothing to me. As my mom, I love her, but as this sudden transcendental being not confined by a physical form, it's easy to come to the conclusion that she is so incredibly meaningless. Not as a person, not because she is herself, but because I am me and I'm in control.

As I reread this for typos, I realize that I sound like I'm on mad fucking drugs. I'm not. It's 5 am. I don't know if this serenity will last.




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