Battle Scarred

There are those times in your life when things seem like they'll never get better, not ever. They're dismal, make you feel dead inside, uninspired. How do I know this? I've been there. Trust me, I know how it feels when the darkness creeps in, surrounding you, choking the life and joy out of everything.

I know what it feels like to have the happiness leak out of your world, when everything becomes a dull, dreary, depressing gray. When sometimes, life doesn't seem worth living for.

Those days when you lose faith in people, that's the worst. Because who do you depend on? People. Who do you count on to always have your back, to never look the other way when you're in trouble? Who do you count on when the going gets rough and nothing makes sense?

People.

And when you don't believe in the good of humanity anymore, what's left, besides emptiness? Besides an abyss a hundred miles away that has no end, which you just continue to fall through? When you forget what happiness looks likes, that's when things tend to fall apart.

When a tiny part of you...dies. Just crumbles. Tears apart. Splits open.

I speak from experience, the experience of knowing exactly what goes through your mind when that happens.

I do know. I know all of it. Every emotions, every thought, every tear.

It never failed. And it never will.

It's Called Being a Freaking Teenager

"If I got money every single time someone asked me why I was so moody, I'd be richer than Donald Trump." ~ Me

Which is, unfortunately, the truth. Take yesterday, for example. My mom takes one look at me, goes, "Why are you dressed like that? You used to dress so nicely!"

Deadpanning, I went, "It's called being a junior in high school," which I guess isn't exactly true. The fact that I dress about as nicely as a trash bag more days has to do more with my jam-packed, stressful schedule, than the fact I'm still going through the hormonal nightmare that is Being a Teenager. Still, I can't wait to become a young adult. I mean, granted, I'd love to go back to being, like, eleven, but since we haven't invented time travel yet, going back in time is somewhat of an impossibility. 

Imagine that!

Anyhow, I hate how my clinician will ask me, "Are you okay, Katie? Because lately your mood has been in a constant flux."

What he's really asking is, "Are you crazy? Do you need a med change? A hospitalization?"

AS A MATTER OF FACT, DR. OZ, I DO NOT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. IT'S CALLED BEING A FREAKING TEENAGER! WE GO THROUGH MOOD SWINGS. IT'S A THING! YOU WERE MY AGE ONCE, YOU KNOW HOW IT GOES! SO DON'T TELL ME I'M 'UNSTABLE' BECAUSE I WILL DROP-KICK YOUR ASS!!!

The Suckish Reality of My Suckish Existence

At around 7:15 I got this text from my friend Maya: would you be super mad if I dated Brian?

Brian, who I have loved and crushed on for so long (and who will never return my feelings), Brian who makes me laugh, who makes me cry, who is the only person who can simultaneously make me laugh while I'm crying on the inside.

Brian, who Maya now wants to date. Maybe, if I wasn't heartbroken over him I'd be fine with it. Maybe, if Maya hadn't said, "I DON'T--AND WILL NEVER--LIKE BRIAN THAT WAY!" and then changed her mind fifty billion times.

I really wanted to write back: why, yes, Maya, I would be very mad. Superbly, completely, entirely, irreversibly mad. Does that answer your question?

Instead, I gave a stupid, I'm-too-nice-to-tell-the-truth answer: It would make me feel heartbroken.

Heartbroken! HEARTBROKEN! Like it even matters? Let's face the truth, my heart will be more than broken if Brian chooses her over me. I was actually becoming accustomed to the idea of just being friends with him. I could have made it work.

But now...this changes everything. Those little, unimportant nine words on their own don't mean anything. But put those together and you get a recipe for my worst nightmare.

The worst thing is, Brian has been drooling (it's true) over her since he pretty much first met her. I can't imagine facing Brian and acting like everything's fine. Brian tries to be a nice guy, but I know, inside, that if he were faced with a choice of stay girlfriend-less or date Maya, he'd go to her.

Also, I know, that if it came down to me as his best friend or Maya as his girlfriend, as my dad says, Brian would choose Maya.

He's right. And why wouldn't he be?

I guess my pathetic, idiotic, broken heart just wants to deny, deny, deny.

Wouldn't be the first time.

Sometimes

Sometimes I believe I can fly. Sometimes I spread my wings and soar through the sky. But it's when I wander too close to the sun that I get burned. 

We like to think we're invulnerable, that we cannot be harmed. But I can tell you that these types of thoughts simply add to our vulnerability. All the pain I've endured in my mere sixteen years has been elevated by that feeling of invincibility, that idea that nothing can touch me.

No matter where you go, loss will follow you. You can and will lose things you love most. Believing you will not is a foolish ideal I do not recommend harboring.

Have I made mistakes? Have I lost that which I love most? Certainly. I used to think perservering, putting a show- no- emotion expression on in the face of tragedy was a true sign of bravery.

It's not. It's weak, denying your feelings passage. It's a cop out. You cannot expect to solve anything by running away. To stand and look them in the eye and deal with it- -THAT is true bravery.

The Mysterious Case of the Broken Heart

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." ~Eleanor Roosevelt

While that might be true, apparently my consent is not needed. The hardest thing in life is to give someone everything you have, to lay your feelings all out on the table, and for them to go, "Oh, no thanks."

It's not just upsetting, it's mortifying. To put yourself out there, vulnerable to everyone, is one of the hardest things to do. It's also one of the hardest things to bounce back from.

The dreaded four words: "Let's just be friends."

A loud thunk echoes in my chest, my heart hitting rock bottom. The sound of glass shattering is my heart breaking in two. Life is one of those things that is full of surprises...was it stupid of me to hope that him liking me back could be one? That maybe, just maybe, he returned my feelings?

Maybe my expectations were too high. Maybe I'm just not pretty enough. Maybe the attraction just isn't there for him.

No matter the reason, rejection is awful. It's humiliating. It made me want to hide under a rock and never come out. But I did, because I refuse to let the sick feeling of having your feelings unrequited keep me from living my life.

I guess I should have known better; this is my life we're talking about. UGH. I feel like such a moronic idiot, and yes, I know that's stupid, since I'm basically calling myself a dummy two times, but I don't give a flying fuck.

I've never felt so awkward and mortified in my entire life. But I want to know something: can you ever go back? Can you ever leave the Realm of Uncomfortable Situations and rejoice in the Land of All is Forgiven?

I hope so. That's the only way I'll be able to move on, to forgive myself.

Forget that. There's no way I can ever forgive myself, whether or not he does taken out of the equation. I messed up big time, and there's just no going back.

Unrequited love sucks.

A Family, Separated

I used to think my family was inseparable. Now, I know I'm wrong. No one in this world is immune to heartbreak and conflicts of the heart, and me and my family...well, we're no exception.

My dad's off in Maine, and the problem with that is that he isn't HERE, my bitchy sister just told my mother she's terrible at parenting and that she's always yelling at us (speak for yourself, Emily!!), and my mom is sitting in the car, crying, while I watch it all fall apart. I can't do it. I almost cried myself. Why is everyone in my family so intent on breaking us apart?

I kind of feel like my stomach's been ripped open and someone's carefully removing my heart and in its place putting in a mechanical, robotic heart, just so I can keep on going without the pain, go through life effectively numb.

God knows feeling nothing is better than feeling...this.

You've Got A Shitty Personality!!

I hate myself. No, I amend that statement. I hate myself for hating myself. I hate that I get mad at others and make them feel upset just to help myself feel better. I hate that through my depression I'm pushing others away by...not wanting them to get hurt. Which is ultimately pointless, since by my trying to keep them from getting hurt, I'm ultimately driving the knife in deeper.

I've been depressed before, and it's never been like this. Ever. It's always been just depressed, depressed, depressed, non-stop...or at least until something came along to fix it. But now I'm happy then furious then excited to bawling my eyes out, then overjoyed...and it leaves me wondering--how am I actually feeling? Because it can't be normal to be this up and down all the time.

Right?

And honestly, I'm not sure whether hoping for confirmation of my non-normalcy is hurting, or helping.

And every single time I drive someone else away from me, I can hear that voice from AOL Mail going: "You've Got...A Shitty Personality!!"

And truthfully, maybe I do. Maybe I'll be entirely alone before I ultimately hear the truth. Who knows? I sure don't.

One thing I do know is, I want to get better. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore. I want the inner ache to go away.

Bottom line: I'll do whatever it takes. And if there's a God up there, I'll never use your name in vain again. Seriously. I swear.