It’s dark, that’s to be expected as it gets late. However I haven’t been awake for that long, a consequence of sleeping late. Today I listened to YouTube videos trying to go back to sleep. I was prepared to just pretend I didn’t wake up today. But I couldn’t sleep. So I read, but that didn’t make me feel any better. I just ate some food my parents got me. Didn’t even finish all of it because I got full too fast. Back in bed listening to music. As though nothing ever changed.
I feel tired. I know I previously said I wished I was this tired all the time. But I still can’t do anything right. I feel toxic. Can’t talk to family correctly. Can’t finish food correctly, nor can I reject it since I am a foodie. But what use am I if I can’t even finish all that I’m given.
Using music to intensify negative emotions, to hurt. Because I can’t physically tear myself apart. Not without causing trouble to my family. If I could do it- no, even if I could, I wouldn’t. Because I’m a coward. Someone who’s too scared to suffer. With a sense of self preservation that I shouldn’t have. So this is all I can do. Break myself down and beat myself down until I’m unable to stop, seeing as no one else will do it for me.
Using music as a weapon. Thoughts. Words. Writing.
I swore today I’d be useless. But when have I ever been useful? The only thing that changes if I don’t get out of bed is the amount of food and electricity being used to sustain my lifestyle. I feel akin to a parasite. Then again, I’m probably causing even more harm by letting my emotional state ever show. I should smile more, these people are so nice and caring that they’ll never leave me alone if they see me like this.
It’s very dark in my room, just about pitch black. My phone is probably illuminating my face. My eyes are definitely done for. I think I’m done trying to comfort myself. Not only is it unnecessary and useless, it only makes me feel worse. I don’t work for anything, I haven’t earned anything, so I don’t deserve anything. The more I’m given, the worse I am.
These words may feel empty, but that’s only because of the value I’ve put on showing how you feel on your face. It seems that I’ve always been the cause of my own problems.
I thought about it, you know. The situation that would be if I were to disappear. Many good things. Sure, I’d be depriving my friend of a talking buddy, but I know she’d find someone more deserving of her. Someone that would care more, do more, be more. She’ll have something better. When I’m not here.
My brother might even be happy. And I’d deserve that, no doubt. Him and my sister might feel that inkling of relief, happiness at the fact. No longer worrying about space, or a troublesome sibling that won’t cooperate easily. Maybe they’d feel bad for that, but I’m sure they’d be fine after a little while. My parents would have so much pressure lifted off their shoulders. Not having to worry about bringing this or that to the table. Expenses would drop down by some I’m sure.
For some reason, I don’t think they’d care. How odd. They care about me a lot. Too much. They’d probably adjust well. I don’t add anything to this family anyway. Things might finally be complete without me around. No need to worry. No cause for concern. Everything would be alright.
Things are vibrating around me in the darkness. But I won’t cry, don’t deserve to. I haven’t suffered nearly enough. Not yet.
I don’t want for more. I desire self destruction. What should I do?
I need to sleep, wake up, do stuff, work on that book, eat at the appointed times, drink water, smile (phase in), be quiet (phase out), try not to be extra. I still want, always will want, to be this tired all the time.
I feel as though I’m in a different time. The fan noises. The type of music I’m hearing. The darkness. The window. The blinds. The curtain. I have a job for tomorrow that I’ve been failing at for a total of 3 months.
I wonder if things will be different tomorrow.