Tati

i feel like a kid

for crying. and i am a kid. so why i cant i just go through the motions without being aware of the fact that im going through the motions?

why cant i just not be self conscious

i wanna do an online quiz again. clearly i wont be able to sleep. 24 hours it is, or at least i should hold out until 6-9pm (ha)

one part of me jsut wants to linger in that feeling and see how far it goes. cuz maybe ill stop eating since its starting to have no taste. but i wouldn’t be able to enjoy the benefits if i go on like that. nothing feels good or enjoyable in that state. and i’d think
is crying the only thing i can do? cry about my ‘misery’ (lmao.)
because i don’t know how to get out of that state of mind.
sh wouldn’t help either. it would just hurt and i’d come back feeling worse. going somewhere else would be the same. i’d just sit there feeling,, however it is i’m feeling.

losing myself in fiction is an escape tactic that doesn’t last. i’d be more dependent than i already am.
i feel sick.

i feel numbed out but not numb. i feel alone and inconsequential. but that’s my own fault.
i feel like i’m complaining but i don’t know what else i could possibly do to make it better.
i feel alone.
i feel like i don’t matter. i know they care but i don’t feel worth their time.
i feel lazy and disrespectful.
i feel insatiable but i don’t want anything at the same time.
i feel annoyed. at myself. at how this all feels.
at the way i’m sure this is all just the work of normal teenage crap that i don’t care to look into right now.

i’m not depressed. i’m sad at something. many something’s and i just can’t deal with it even though none of it, not even me, matters. that’s why it’s silly. funny. humorous. amusing that i seem so affected by so much of nothing.

i don’t know how to enjoy. sometimes i feel too tired to be happy.
i wouldn’t need to be if i were just asleep instead. but clearly that’ll have to wait.

i just feel sad.
at the fact that i won’t be able to talk to people the way i want to. because this body. this mouth of mine. operates in a way i can’t control.
i stutter. i mumble. too quiet. too hesitant to speak. too shy. too scared.
i won’t be able to do what i want. because my thoughts and desires are merely that. thoughts. like i can’t control the very body i’m trapped in. or maybe it’s laziness. a defect either way.
can’t express my guilt and gratitude and love that i do have i promise i do i just have so much pride so much shame so much stuck up-ness that i cant fudging say i love you when i know that every moment i have with them is precious, important.

past the fear and anger and irritation and anxiety i hold

i can’t seem to get a fudging grip. be normal for them. just do what they ask and bear with, for once, instead of complaining and shutting down.

because yes everyday is the same and yes food isn’t always a great experience and yes everything is sometimes too loud or not enough or whatever tf complaint i come up with to explain why i’m being a pp
but at least they’re alive. at least they tolerate me. at least they care at all, past those things they deal with.

at least they decided not to trash me after seeing what i turned out to be after a decade of their hard work.
am i waste?
doesn’t really matter as long as you try.
am i trying?
i don’t know.

i feel bad for them. for having me as a family member. i really do. because they don’t know what they could’ve had if it just weren’t me. and it hurts to think that way but i can’t see it any other way.
i can’t SPEAK to people. does it get anymore pathetic than that for someone my age? lmfao
it’s not funny. well it is. nope it’s not. just dumb.
i feel useless.
if i were better
it doesn’t matter.

I should be more thankful, considering. Should you only be thankful for the good and not the bad? Should i be thankful for a face i hate so much? Or just for the rest of the body which keeps me afloat, even when i wish i’d just perish in my sleep sometimes.
Or maybe i should be thankful for what really matters. A nice, kind, too good for me family? They who seem better than me in every way, who make me wonder if i was really born to them—

how could i be her kid when i can’t even smile half as beautifully as her?

i can’t make people laugh like they do.

i can’t sit with others comfortably like they do.

can’t put on such a well crafted mask like them.

i sound like an inferiority complex in the making.