So it’s 1 am, and I’m so tired that my minds running like a get away train.
You know when you’re about to fall asleep and all those thoughts come rushing in, so you start thinking all these really deep things.
For example, last night before falling asleep I questioned why I was wearing black all week. I sure wasn’t grieving. I mean, nobody died… then I thought, “Maybe I’m just reflecting what I’m feeling on the inside? I’m feeling pretty down in the dumps…let’s face it I’m depressed.”
When you actually admit it to yourself, there’s this feeling you get. It’s not this feeling that you’re depressed, it’s this feeling like your choking from the inside. Like you wanna scream but you can’t.
I try not to admit those kind of things to myself. I’m scared of being crazy. I don’t think I’m crazy, but if I were crazy I don’t think anyone would ever talk to me. I’m lonely enough thanks. Just thinking things like that bugs me. Then again, a lot of things bug me lately. It rains too much, it’s too cold, people are too damn loud or too damn quiet. There’s not enough lighting, or it’s too bright. I’m thinking so much about everything that I can’t think at all. Its driving me up the wall. Up. The. Bloody. Wall.
You ever feel like you just wanna hit somebody? You know you won’t actually hit anyone, but you want to. You just wanna clench your fist and swing your arm real fast till smack, there she goes…and you can just stare at yourself in disbelief because you really hit that guy. Poor fella…didn’t really deserve it. You were just having a bad day.
I’ve felt like hitting someone lately and that someone is myself. Talk about beating yourself up. I literally would love to. If I could, I’d clone myself and beat myself to a pulp…I call myself an idiot in my head. I do it all the time. I’d never say it aloud. That’d be admitting to it. When words are said out loud they come true. They don’t come true when you think and un-think them. All this thinking and un-thinking…exhausting. I wish I could sleep but I can’t. I’m too tired to sleep. My minds racing. Worst part of it is, I can function on little sleep without coffee. I’ve had coffee twice in my life. It’s awful stuff. Bitter. I’ve got a sweet tooth. I’d rather drink pop or a cup of tea with three large spoons of sugar. That’s why I’ve had so many cavities in the past…it’s all this dang sugar. I can’t wait till I can go home. Don’t get me wrong, living on my own is fun and all, I can leave my room messy without my mom nagging me about it, and I don’t have anyone complaining to me about anything, but I need to get home. I feel like if I don’t get home I’ll break.
One can pretend they’re okay for so long until they just break.
I’m so tired my eyes sting. They’re watering. I’d sleep if I could…I sure would…but these dang thoughts just keep on coming. I’ve gotta get up for class at 8 am. It’s 2 now. I’m feeling hungry, light headed…feeling awful. Just awful. Why can’t I just push a button and say, “Racing thoughts let me sleep. Do not make another peep!” These thoughts make me sad…real sad. Like there’s something wrong with me. Guess there is something wrong with me. I still haven’t changed outta these dirty clothes and I’m talking to a brick wall. Yah a bloody, cold brick wall. Nothing’s getting through that thing. If I were a brick wall I’d be better off. No more of this feeling like beating myself up and curling up at night staring at the ceiling. No more being a big suck. No sir, I’d be unmovable…unless you took something and smashed me in. You’d need a wrecking ball for that. Sadly, I’m no brick wall….not emotionally anyways.
Some people must think I’m unapproachable but I just don’t approach people. There’s a difference. I like people. I like to watch them, talk to them….but I over think before I say anything. So instead of worrying myself about what I should say, I don’t say anything at all. Makes things much easier on me…being shy and all.
These are the kind of things that run through my head constantly. It’s like a runaway train. There’s no stopping it. It just keeps speeding down this track. I never know where it’ll end up…I think that’s the depressing part. Not knowing.