2007-06-16, 12:19 p.m.
Every time I remember that I exist, meaning I stop checking out and remember who I am, my anxiety shoots through the roof. I literally feel that terrible nauseating feeling going down my throat and into the pit of my stomach.
I get scared. I am afraid not because I�m in immediate danger or there is something threatening me, no. I get scared because of my 21 years in life I can't remember one fucking happy day but I still can't get myself to fucking end this aimless, pointless, speck of a dirt existence. My point is I'm so fucking scared when I remember my self because I know I am going to live.
I don't understand happy people. I feel like were all just going through routines in hopes that there is something better up head. Well news flash, geniuses, there isn't. It's never going to get any better and you're never going to feel any better. Anyone who tells you differently is delusional. Anyone who tells you things will look up or that you'll get through this or they will always be there for you is fucking lying to themselves so they don't go off the deep end too. Fuck, happiness is a fucking fantasy I wish I could by into but it's not working if you couldn't tell.
I'm so bloody tired of people telling me how to run my life and how to fix my problems. I'm so bloody tired of people thinking they understand or that I am the one who just doesn't get my own life. I'm so FED UP and so sick of this bullshit being spoon fed to me that my anger is always at the surface ready to attack anyone who even breaths towards me the wrong way.
I fucking hate everyone. I fucking hate the government and their blatant stupidity in prioritizing what really bloody matters. I'm fucking pissed off at my therapist for knowing I�m in trouble, knowing he's the ONLY person I have and I am putting ALL my hope on him, and he still won't put in any extra effort other than our once a week appointments. Would it KILL him to just COMMENT on the online document he asked me to make? Would it fucking put him off that bad, use up THAT much of his precious time to give me some bloody feed back and direction? How is one person capable of knowing that practically the life of another person is in their hands but pretend not to notice and they still manage to sleep at night? FINE, Julio, if you don't want to...oh I don't know...be my fucking therapist can you at least hold up a stop sign when I�m about to spiral out of control and cross a line that will ruin my life forever and ever amen?
I'm on the verge of violent anger every time I even look at either of my parents. I want to beat the shit out of my dad until he realizes how much he has hurt me and how it's like pouring salt into my BROKEN heart when he sees me crying or knows I�m in trouble and can't even ask if I'm okay.
What did I do as an innocent, hopeful, bubbly fucking child to deserve being left in the dust by people I thought cared about me? It kills me inside to think of how much hope I had as a kid. How wholesome and idealistic and loving I was only to be crushed to the core then put through a wood chipper because I hadn't been fucked over enough yet.
I�m going to live. But I will have to live everyday with pain and hurt and a jaded, burnt out heart that will only get more and more calloused as life continues to fuck me over, or I fuck up because that's what I was taught to do.
The only way to survive life alone is to put one foot in front of another, despite the fact that you're barely alive.