Weather

Why can't I cry?

I've wondered this for a long time. There's something wrong with me, I know it. I listen to saturatingly depressing music, I got 99 problems... let alone bitchez, and I never break down. I sit there and I immerse myself in the melancholy shadows of the world and the most I ever get is eye watering. Just that painful chest tightness. Am I heartless? It just makes me feel guilty - like I'm don't care about myself; I do. I promise. So why can't I let it out.

Sometimes all I feel like is a good hour-long sob fest, but it doesn't come. Last time I really cried was August, in a gross hotel room. Like that day where you know it's gonna rain, you're so sure, so ready for the cool pounding on the roof, but it taunts you. An interesting concept, weather taunting you. At this point I'm just waiting for it all to... rip out of my head. It seems so cruel of me. I don't know.

I kinda want to learn to play the piano. It's the greatest invention ever created, apart from the fridge. Keeps all yo food cold. Pianos don't do that. But I want to learn to play all the same.

I might have seen my 99 year old great grandmother for the last time in August. Ugh, August. It was so painful. She didn't speak a word of English, but she looked so happy sometimes. Her whole family in the same house. I can appreciate that. Other times she just stared sadly out th window onto the narrow street outside. Her arms were skinnier than Meg's. Barely any hair. So much heart. God, I wish I knew what she was saying when she spoke to me. I regret not spending a year there instead of a month.

I hate when people say "No regrets". Most times it's a lie. Sure, you gain valuable experience from everything, but don't tell me you wouldn't go back and change the rough spots if you could. No questions asked, I wouldn't have said that to him. I wouldn't have.

My first big decision about the mess coming up. Anyone up to making it for me? LOL. I refuse to take sides. One thing I won't do, ever. But how can I decide without doing that. Fuck.

I love this silence. It's happy silence, heavy and wrapping.

The Fucking Puppy

I had another nightmare last night. Woke up in a sweat. If it's ever happened to you you know how lovely a feeling it is.

It basically showed me what would have happened if they'd had another baby. Jesus, I used to think it was a good idea. Terrible. I was like the mother of the child, for one thing. Because my mom was... like she was out of the picture. All throughout the dream the perspective kept toggling from me to her. I was driving with the baby and the 3 other kids in the car with my dad, and she was in her car with our friend's dog. Obvious symbolism is obvious. And then there was an earthquake... and my mom never checked to see if we were okay, all she cared about was the fucking puppy. And I was responsible for the baby, I couldn't cheat the baby out of a good life I had to make sure it was safe and situated. I don't want this to happen to me.

That baby was so goddamn cute. It was the cutest thing ever. Ugh I have school.

Guys seriously, don't even bother reading this.

Nothing's changed much. I suppose I should be happy. I'm terrified of change. I cried myself to sleep the last day of my 8th grade year at the prospect of high school and stress and separation anxiety. And oh look, everything that I was afraid of happening has happened. This stupid system has cut my ties with one of the people I value most on the surface of the planet. This system has screwed me over and over but I'm shackled to it. Sometimes I want to move to the bottom of the ocean. I hate going back and putting the word "sometimes" at the beginning of my sentences. I'm working on non-blanket statements; I am. But it feels like it should be the word always in my head. Blanket statements.

But when the change is happening to everyone around you and you're the one starting to lag it just... sucks. You start to realize that you're waiting for things to get better. "This year's gonna be different. This year I'll be great." And then you realize it's not the year that changes... you do. Fuck. Right? Whatever just go sit in your room for hours and blast chaotically depressing songs into your already aching skull. You fucking loser, you tool. You're a fucking tool.

Currently trying to think of something positive to write about, please hold.

I'm more accepting of myself, is that a start? Actually, I guess it's just that I know more about myself. I'm scared of growing up and forgetting what it's like to analyze the feelings that come at you one million strong all at once. I like that overwhelming-ness and then categorizing every one of them. I left the country last August. I don't even know what happened there. I'm afraid to just let the entire incident out because of who's reading this. Fuck, I've done it again.

Thing I Hate About Myself #24
I don't do my best at everything, even if I want it. My posture is bad too.