Bitter taste in my mouth.

Sometimes I feel like I'm such an angry person and my judgment just clouds over and I'm just snappy. I don't really mean to be sometimes, but I'm just filled with the stupid rage and everything just irritates me and I just hate everyone and I wish they would just leave me the fuck alone.

Sometimes it will be triggered by something, but not always. Like today. So apparently the bitch that is my aunt separated from and is no longer living with her fucking shitty ass motherfucking exbf. But she still fucking him. Which is just like UGH, could you not? could you stop being so fucking pathetic and disgusting and horrible. God I fucking hate that bitch. And I know that what I feel for her is more like rancor that I just am not willing to let go of. I don't even want to think about forgiving her because that fucking bitch doesn't deserve it. She can go fuck herself. Like seriously. She should go fuck herself.

I just wish that she was either not part of the family, or at least that they disowned her and never mentioned her again.

But I guess I kind of have to put up with her because my cousin is mostly ok and I like her, so I have to see that disgusting ass bitch every once in a while. At least I may be able to avoid that motherfucker now. Ugh. So disgusting that it makes me feel dirty.

Wander back

Sometimes I look back at places like these and I wonder if this ever helped me. If pouring my thoughts out, unabashed, unedited, helped me heal in some way. I know that I can handle my emptiness better than I could when I started writing about it, but it's hard to say if that was because of the writing or because that's just what happens when you live with something for so long. You just sort of learn to deal with it.

I don't know, really.

I'm kind of grateful for remembering this place exists, after so long. It's nice to have a place free of people that I know or interact with on a regular basis. It's a nice sort of freedom to have. I've been too scared to write things because all of my outlets have been overcrowded with people that I know.

I know that I used to want people to read what I wrote, I wanted them to pay attention. But the more attention they pay, the less freedom I have to say whatever I want. The more I start to silence myself so that they may not be hurt. But they will be hurt anyway because I'm not a very good person. I try, but I can't.

It's so tiring having to interact with people all the time. Like a true introvert, I suppose.

But I am also terribly afraid of being alone. So afraid, gripped with fear. And maybe it's just a matter of fact, something that happens when your depression lapses, when you don't have very many actual friends.

I guess that's been one of the hardest things so far. To finally have a confirmation of something that I've always known, to finally put a name on it, and to also not be able to tell anyone about it.
I'm not quite sure what I'm afraid of. Am I afraid that they won't understand?

I've always been afraid to acknowledge it to others, I guess. I can acknowledge it in writing that they probably won't see. But in some ways I really don't want to be confronted about it. I don't want people to try to get me to talk about it, because I'm tired of talking about it. I'm tired of crying over it.

In many ways, it's like I'm afraid that I'll cry in front of them because they'll see me as weak.

And I know that it has to do with the fact that I don't want my family to find out about it. I don't want them to know that their actions have hurt me, that they have power over me. I don't want to feel like I'm giving them that power.

But I really don't know what's kept me from killing myself for so long. It's almost like I made a pact, like I promised someone that I wouldn't hurt myself. It's almost like a sort of religious devotion and it's incredibly bizarre.

And I guess those are my thoughts for now.

"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=110nVTF26-U"

I saved this link as a draft 3 years ago, and I have to say that this is the most opportune moment for this song.

The thing I hate most about being a teenager is not, contrary to popular belief, not knowing. It's never been a question of "who am I?"I know who and how I am. I don't need to go on a metaphorical journey to figure that out. If you don't know who the fuck you are by the time you're 17, then you're not even trying anymore.
It's not relationships either. Or lack of them. I don't feel inadequate because I don't have someone to "claim as my own." I admit that I do get lonely, but who doesn't? Who's never been the one to get an icy stare in a back view mirror?
Nah. The absolute worst part about being a teenager is the feeling that things will always be this way--that people will always be this way. So possessive and manipulative, as if life were a battle for who gets called out a "bitchwh0reslut" the least.
This isn't even misguided misanthropy anymore. This is just an acceptance of how petty everything is. Sure, there's the whole argument about everything being relatively important. To some people, reputation is everything.
But it just kinda defies the purpose, you know? The purpose of living. Living is not measured in how many parties I go to or how many times I get laid in a week. It's not about getting drunk, doing drugs. It's not about reading books and doing homework either.
Life isn't any of those things. And I don't know what conclusion about life I can offer you either. The closer I get to having one, the less sane I become. The less things matter. It bothers me so much how possessive people are.
With class rank, with toys, with grades, with being in everyone's good grace. It bothers me because I can't tell if people who are like are living for others. I wish to think that I know that they are. Who cares what anyone thinks of you?
It also bothers me that the people who say "who cares" are often the worst of them all. Slutwh0rebitchcunt. "Who cares" is not about making others feel like shit. It's not about leading a hedonistic life, asshole. "Who cares" is about...
I don't care. I honestly don't. I loooove when people talk about me behind my back. If I had known such an uproar would've happened I'd have spoken up sooner. It absolutely thrills me to be the talk of the town. And you know why? Because it doesn't even matter! It doesn't even matter, but there you are! Whispering your little voice away! OH MY GAWD SHE DID WHAT? Hahaha! Never feed the troll, bitches.
You make such a big deal about everything. It's so amusing. You won't even see me ever again in your petty little lives, yet there you are... Running your mouth at 100mph. If you could only get a sense of how much I absolutely do not care about you. I would not even feel sorry if you were dead. I'd probably be happy, even. Happy that you could not reproduce and raise a child into stupidity.
But whatever. It's not my place to judge right? Neither is it yours.

The worst part is I actually thought I was ok.

He shook my hand and tried to hug me, but I just stood there and awkwardly leaned forward. Then he turned to them and said the most dangerous thing I have ever heard in my life.

"This child needs to be shown more love."

I was mortified. How dare he expose me like that? How dare he take everything I'd built in the past 6 years and burn it to the ground with just that statement? 

Text.

In the darkest corners of the mind there exist beings and scenarios, events yet untold, that haunt those who venture there-things that are not worth knowing. Without being consciously aware of it, you find your breath is shallow, your heart is racing, your mind is coming to conclusions that don't fit.... Through the tortuous labyrinth of this experience comes a dim light that leads—nowhere. You're stranded, you can't breathe. Things seem to spin around you—the monsters come out to play—with whom? with what? “No, no, please!” They take everything you know, all the things you relied upon, all stolen. The light goes off, and the monsters no longer care to hide in the shadows.

Welcome.

Books.

House of the Scorpion (Nancy Farmer)
Sea of Trolls
Airborn (Kenneth Oppel)
Sky Breaker
Idle Wild (Nick Sagan)
Eden Born
Ever free
In the Garden of Iden (Kage Baker)
Mendoza in Hollywood
Multiple Wounds (Alan Rusell)
Artemis Fowl I-V (Eoin Colfer)
Half-Moon Investigations
The Wish List
The Artemis Fowl Files
The Supernaturalist
HP I-VI (J.K. Rowling)
Redwall (Brian Jacques)
How to Get Ideas (Jack Foster)
Storm Thief (Chris Wooding)
ASOUE I-XII (Lemony Snicket)
The Unauthorized Autobiography
The Lightning Thief (Rick Riordan)
The Sea of Monsters
The Truth about Forever (Sarah Dessing)
This Lullaby
A Different Slant of Light (Laura Whitcomb)
The Wind Singer (William Nicholson)
Slaves of the Mastery
Fire Song
Hoot (Carl Hiaasen)
Flipped (Wendelin Van Draanen)
Touching Spirit Bear (Ben Mikaelson)
The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
Things Fall Apart (Chinua Achebe)
Monster (Sanyika Shakur)
The Young Man and the Sea (Rodman Philbrick)
The Boy Who Saved Baseball (John Ritter)
The Bartimaeus Trilogy (Jonathan Stroud)
Red Kayak (Patricia Cummings)
Becoming Naomi Leon (Pam Muñoz Ryan)
Esperanza Rising
Gregor the Overlander (Suzanne Collins)
The Tale of Desperaux (Kate diCamillo)
Sahara Special (Esme Codell)
Jackie's Wild Seattle (Will Hobbs)
Inkheart (Cornelia Funke)
Inkspell
Eragon (Christopher Paolini)
Eldest
Heir Apparent (Vivian Vande Velde)
The Book of Mordred
Magic is Murder
The Pact (Jodie Picoult)
My Sister's Keeper
Star of Kazan (Eva Ibbotson)

Ok. I give up.