Pity @ MindSay 
love
But let's face it, we teens are a bunch of whiners.
Of course, I'm no exception. I'm a hypocrite. I whine, I complain and sometimes I lie on the floor with headphones blasting out angry music while in my mind I'm hoping the floor will suck me up so I can escape from the world I perceive as being so vile.
I've decided not to go into too much detail about why I think my life is so petty. Instead, I'm going to divulge in a more general idea of why I think the teenage life is so damn unbearable.
We all know about the hormones rushing through our bloodstreams, making us have our roller coaster emotions where we're happy one minute and slashing our wrists with the nearest sharp object in the next. They call us, 'Generation Y," brought up and raised by the Internet - different from all other generations - more self obsessed - more paranoid - more this, more that. I often hear my mother say, "I never did/spoke/acted like that when I was your age," well, she's missing the teeny, tiny, insignificant point that when she was my age, her circumstances were different. She didn't have access to brainwashing tabloids, sites, images, music and articles which influence modern society in more ways than you can dare deny. Not only that, life was just simpler in those days. People had aims, there wasn't so much publicized drama from teenagers and people held different attitudes towards life. I'm not saying that times have completely changed, certainly not. In those times, I'm sure there were people that suffered from depression, that committed suicide and crimes and that got drunk out of their wits and got in anybody's car, arms or lap.
But my question is, what is it that makes us teens tick? Well, I don't know about everyone else but I'm starting to realize what makes me behave the way I do. What makes me bother to post a blog about just how bad life is and share it with complete strangers? The answer is attention.
As the world's population is getting bigger and people's accomplishments are becoming bigger and better, the demand for attention is increasing. A while ago, you could have a great voice and become famous. Now, you can have an excruciatingly bad voice but as long as you've got a pre-made reputation, good physique, commercial smile and plenty of recording studio magic, you can make billions. Even if you're a dumb piece of shit; come up with a few catchy rhymes about money and girls, get some skinny or big arsed girls to shake it in front of a camera with a skimpy costume and bam! you've got the mansion, the bling and the sluts. This contrasts with the far less publicized life of the class geek, the one who got picked on, the one who never got a date unless it was a dare, the one who was smarter than the rest and if given the right opportunities - could develop a cure for the lung cancer for those rap artists who love to exhale some deadly toxins from a big fat cigar through their gold plated teeth which shine in their "music" videos.
So, with all these famous people, what's left for us normal people? Personally, I've always loved to sing. When I was younger, I really, really thought I could make it in the music industry. But it turns out, so did millions of the other girls who would probably succeed by featuring in some rap artist clip just because they didn't mind to demean themselves for publicity. So what do I do? I gave up. And by doing that, I got depressed because I felt shot down and wondered why life was so unfair. Well you know what? Life is never fair. No-one's is. No-one has it all. Life isn't always about the choices we make. It's about the choices we HAVE, the opportunities with HAVE and occasionally, the opportunities we make for ourselves. But what is success without a little bit of brutality, a bit of rivalry and metaphorical cannibalism? Well, it doesn't exist. People claim to have made it to the top on solid ground, staying pure and getting there nice and cleanly, but even if they did (which I doubt), how do they stay up there with those arrogant, two-faced, smile for the camera brutes? Well, monkey see, monkey do.
So basically, because I feel so insufficient all the time, I feel like, hell there's nothing left here for me, why not just ditch life and have an arsenic tequila? Well, I'm not religious but just in case there is a hell down there, I'd rather give this petty thing called life a try rather than suffering an eternity of fiery thrashings. That's what I tell myself anyway. I also think about the consequences of suicide. I'm an only child so naturally, my parents will be devastated and they've been pretty good to me so I really can't imagine what effect it would truly have on them. Now I bet some of you would be thinking, "You'll be dead, you'll never know how they feel so its doesn't matter!" Well, I've thought about that too, but I guess my parents have instilled a very strong moral voice or conscience in me which prevails even when I'm sitting in the car, in my closed garage with my hand on the car ignition after I read about how carbon monoxide poisoning supposedly is painless yet fatal.
Sometimes, I give up on life completely. The other day, I said that I thought life had no meaning. It was a pointless tour around the earth without any real destination. And I stand by my word. But come to think of it, life is one big route that always ends with death. But like any journey, there are detours and scenery which we always remember whether we love or hate them. Or if you're like me and you sleep during a scenic drive, at least you wake up feeling mildly refreshed even if you wake up to a nightmare reality, there was still that millisecond of a moment where life wasn't all that bad. So that's what I live for. Those little moments which make me smile, those little moments that don't seem so bad. I mean, if we're all going to die in the end, what's the point in speeding up the process? The roller coaster isn't finished yet, wait for the loops, wait for the thrills which life may or may not throw at you.
It's those little moments where I'm not wallowing in self pity over a life which compared to starving, orphaned children with a tiny life expectancy is not bad at all, that I live for. Those little moments which I see as being a motivation to keep living. Those pathetically simple moments which happen every now and then are worth living for.
Whether it's indulging in a fruit Popsicle (before realizing it's sugar content and gagging it out or getting diabetes)
Or smelling the sickly sweet scent of a flower (before your hay fever kicks in and rashes attack your body)
Or lying on the floor imagining a life which doesn't seem so complicated until someone bangs on your shut door, ordering you to make something of your life.
The tiny hope that my hormones will ease off soon. The vague optimism for the roller coaster to come to a fun loop. Those little moments. Those pathetic little moments. They are all what I live for.
That, and the idea that death is coming anyway, so might as well enjoy the ride even how shit scary it gets.
I failed to meet with the psychiatrist due to various reasons, some of which I am not to blame and some because I am to blame. I told my parents I had a haircut at 9am and that I would be back around 12pm because I was going to buy some clothes for the wedding later that day. All the while I was planning on meeting with the psychiatrist at 10am right after my haircut. Well that's not what happened. My mother wanted to come along and spend some time with me, because as she puts it: "I hardly get to see you, when you are away at school" so she was along for the ride. So basically I had to skip the appointment. I email the psychiatrist that night and explained what happened, and she agreed to meet with me the next day.
On sunday I was up and ready to go to the psychiatrist (telling my parents I was going to visit some people at my work) but they had to use both cars that day for church or something, while our other car was currently in the shop. So I had no way of getting there....once again I failed.
I emailed her again and explained that there is no way I will ever be able to meet with here, not now at least. I also felt a little sigh of relief though...subconsciously I knew I didn't want to go.
I have also been smoking a lot of Salvia the past few weeks. It's simply amazing. It's cheaper than pot and legal. My bank account has also been getting rather low and I will have to work everyday of Thanksgiving break if I want to keep buying this stuff. I'm buying 1 gram of Salvia 60x and then maybe also an oz or so of weed. The only reason I'm saying all of this is because I will infact be buying it and wasting my life a little more.
I'm such a failure. This week has been a little strenuous. Just today there was another incident that made my heart stop. Me and a friend were coming outside to smoke and another guy we just met this year was outside. My friend was like "Hey guess what (My name) just did?" and the other guy says "Come out of the closet? hahah" and then I (after just 30mins after smoking salvia) kinda stood there and said "Ha, very funny" and then instantly died in my stance.
I can't take this shit anymore. I really can't do it. I've had to put up with this shit for 20 fucking years! I'm seriously on the verge of having another breakdown. I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times that if I have another mental breakdown it will be the end of my life as I know it. EVERYTHING will come crashing down and there will be no recovery. I'll end up in a mental ward like I've always feared. I'm dying on the inside, while my outside just grows more weary. I'm a psychiatrists christmas gift of fruitcake (no pun intended). Once they open me up they'll just send me on to the next recipient (shrink).....
I also didn't wake up on sunday until 7:30pm....after going to bed at 12:00am....that's 19.5 hours of sleep! That's practically and entire day of sleep. Not that it was bad sleep, but people might definitely notice that I'm sleeping more often than I should. I took four tylenol pms that night, not trying to OD or anything, but it was just a bad night that needed to be dealt with.
I feel like my life is slipping away. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. Everything is just passing me by and there's nothing I can do about it. Oh wait that's called depression, like I haven't had that one before. I'm just tired. I can't find anyone to talk to in person without having to pay for it or have it go through insurance....am I asking too much to find one goddamn shrink that will offer to sit down and listen to me release my pandora's box of memories? Thanks Ahzur, I know you are trying to help me and I really do appreciate it.
I don't even know what to say anymore.
Evidently my parents got into some argument a short while ago, and my dad left the house. My mother told my brothers to leave her bedroom where she was on the phone, and they stayed. Prior to us finding out what happened, we only knowing that he was gone and my mom was crying, they were laughing, yes LAUGHING!! Joking, acting as if they were discussing a new toy or something. One goes "I'm gonna go get my spy listener!" No one is concerned about our parents, they just prance around like bumbling insensitive idiots. And "age" can't be used as an excuse. The one that was acting the stupidest is about to be 13 years old. One is basically 10, the other 8. It sickened me, and then they got pissed at me for calling them insensitive jerks. There are a lot of things they do that are just fucked up, but those are tales for other times. The point is I am on a whole totally different level then they, even when I was their "age".
Once again, I cannot WAIT to live alone.
Oh wow.
Gym - We did a relay race first period, I felt bad for my group. I totally brought down the team. Then, lucky Emily started feeling dizzy / lightheaded / whatever you want to call it. So, I proceeded to lay in the fetal position, as I usually do when I'm dehydrated. My lovely friends make me move to a different location.. where the nausea passes. ...And then it comes back. So, I'm laying on the bathroom floor. [People really did remark how disgusting this is.. and well, who cares ?] Some profanity of a person tells the gym teacher. Who has 4 gym teachers surrounding her? Emily does. Fuck They were convinced I had a blackout and ended up on the floor. I tell them I laid on the floor because I was feeling dizzy. They continue to ask if I had a blackout.. like they didnt believe me? They then called the nurse. Who insists I get pushed in a friggin' wheelchair. You heard me right, wheelchair. I told them I could walk and everything... biznitches... I happen to pass some really hot emo guys along the way.. how embarrassing. At the nurses office, the nurse takes it upon her duty to question me. Asking blah blah, has this happened before? How often? Blah blah, does it scare you when this happens? ...umm, can you say imitating? She announces that she's going to call my mother. Uh-oh. After she's done telling my mother, that I'm not normal and that I need to see a doctor, she hands the phone over to me. Boo. I then get lectured by my mother about eating in the morning. The nurse happens to watch me like a hawk, and physco analyzes me. She tells me that I dont think -lying on the floor not breathing- is a big deal. Umm... duh! I only started doing it when I was in freaking first grade. Yea. Then she tells me I cant leave until I finish my juice box [how she got a juicebox.. I dont know]. Something about having sugar in my body or something. I go back to gym, where my gym teacher gives me an immense amount of pity. Pretty close to crying at this point. I know everyone felt bad.. but please just leave me alone?
So now I'm convinced the doctor will tell me I have a very rare disease ... and am dying in a month.
Social Studies - Not much. I couldnt really find anything on my topic.. ugggh..
English - Nothing exciting. Really.
Lunch - The sign said chicken poppers! Only it wasnt. 'Twas lameo whole wheat mini corn dogs. BS.
Science - Finished everything I needed to do. W00t.
Note: Multiple people continue to come up and ask if I'm feeling better. Sigh.
Math - Major headache. You have no idea. I began to daydream about making mac & cheese at this point.. mmm.. [I'm going to make it after I finish my blog.. ha!] I got a whole 6 problems done in a 1/2 hour during this class.. oh yea!
Orchestra - My head hurt soo bad.
Tonight I have to do ALOT of homework and go to a PYLI meeting. Shucks.
Loove you to death.
SOLILOQUY FROM HAMLET.... by Shakespeare of course
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus consience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.-- Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.
Well ok a lot of those words make no sense whatsoever, but it's still a good speech by any measure ;)
I sort of feel inspired after reading that. Still, it sort of seems like my destiny to endlessly philosophise, yet to continually be confounded in human relations. As for the actual speech up there, well that's just stuff about death, dying, suicide etc ... lol who would have thought it, Hamlet was an emo. But I think we all have to ask ourselves that sort of question in the end, not the suicide thing, but contemplating death and all that. It's truly frightening.
How's this for something philosophical.... my worst fear is to die never having experienced love, yet once you die does it really matter anyway? Who cares if I had the best life ever, or died of AIDS in Ethiopia, in the end we're all the same upon death.
Fuck everything.
Oh by the way, I'm a masochist. I think I would genuinely take pleasure in having my feelings hurt, therefore causing me to feel self pity, an emotion that I'm unfortunately all too familiar with. Do I bring it all on myself? I would say yes. So, the point is, I've recognised the problem, now what is the solution? To shut myself in my room? Or to do my best to avoid the overwhelming desire to feel sorry for myself by instilling an artificial confidence from somewhere, and making myself feel better that way? That's what everybody says anyway.
I'm really not an emo. I swear ;)
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