Shout It Out
2008-03-18 - 5:48 p.m.
There's something called "Shout it Out" on Deviantart, and I tried to do one...rather uncreatively, but it got some thoughts out.
My life seems unworthy to note, my secrets seem boring to me. Of all of the people I've told my secrets to, of all the paid professionals, the people who help the most are the ones who don't get paid on an hourly basis, rather my best friends. The only reason I say I want to dye my hair is because I think my natural color makes me look washed-out. When she asked me what was wrong with my legs, it made me never want to leave the house without wearing something to cover them up. It made me so ashamed. I don't think I've ever written anything that actually lives up to what my writing standards should be by now. I wish I had paid more attention in photography class because now that I sit at home all day, it'd be nice if I could see things from behind the lens again. I wish I had motivation and money. My generation scares me. If I were to be back out on the dating field, I don't think I could handle it; I flirt all the time and with everybody. I'm pretty sure if I were single again, I'd miss her so much, I'd hate myself and start mistreating my body all over again. I believe that I have two guardian angels watching over me: my grandpa and my great-grandma. I think stained glass is beautiful. I wish I knew how to tell her exactly how I feel, but the words always get stuck in my throat and things become cliche. I was so embarassed when CharlyAnn saw me walking down that alley that night. I wish I could paint. I used to never be afraid, and now, sometimes, I'm so afraid I don't even want to get out of bed. When my mom told me she was proud of me, I started crying silently (so she couldn't hear me), and that night, her mom was drunk and accused me of lying. I hate being accused of lying when I'm not because I used to compulsively lie. I used to love taking bubble baths, but now, it just feels creepy to be naked by myself in luke-warm water with all the bubbles popped. It's my fault the shift key fell off the computer, I let the dog jump up next to me, and I was on the computer when it happened. Sometimes, I take the blame too often; other times, I let other people take the fall for me. When I was in the hospital, I was afraid I'd waste away in there for the rest of my life because I felt like I wasn't learning anything. When I called him from the hospital, I told him I was out to eat with my parents. I was so ashamed. When he accused me of flaking out because I didn't show up for choir, I wanted to tell him that he shouldn't judge people, but I just glued my mouth shut because I knew I'd start crying again. I was so sick of letting people down by that point (and couldn't bear to tell him that the reason I missed choir again was because I was self-medicating in the goth kid's hall after another failed suicide attempt). I hate letting people down, but I've always been a failure in my mother's eyes. My girlfriend is the first person who thought I was beautiful when I cried. I've watched myself cry in the mirror and never wanted to do it again. If I'm surrounded by beautiful people, it makes me feel inferior. If I'm surrounded by people at all, I get scared that they're all going to look at me and find some reason to make fun of me. I hate my hair as it is. I get jealous easily, and I'm really insecure. Sometimes, I just wish I had a normal talent, like playing sports or getting good grades in school. I hate having a learning disability, it makes me feel practically retarded some days. I wish my room were cleaner, but usually it's too daunting of a task to actually do anything about it. I keep wanting to call to see if I got the job or to check in on my best friend, but my fear of the phone is making me paranoid about actually doing it. I miss driving aimlessly at night in the rain. Sometimes, I like to wear pretty clothes and pretend I'm beautiful like the girls in the magazines. The first person who told me he loved me probably, in fact, just was interested in getting into my pants. I confessed too much on the first phone call. When she told me she loved me, my heart lunged into my throat, and I responded, "I love you too" so quickly, it was obvious that I had thought so for longer than I admitted. I think I'll look better some day; even with all the remnants of my old acne gone, I still worry that people look at me and unless my face is coated in make-up, people will continue to see me as ugly. I've never been "hot" or "popular", I don't want to be either, but I would like to be as beautiful as she thinks I am and maintain a good group of friends. They say when a woman gets older, she looks like her mother. I don't think I'd like to look like my mother because then, it'd be way too easy for me to become her. I want to be my own person, which is a lot easier when I'm living a thousand miles from home. My brother is studying to be a priest, but I think he's only doing it to please my mom.
That's it for now.