So life’s not the best at the moment.
It’s not like there’s been an accident, or I’ve been diagnosed with a terminal illness.
It’s just… Chemical unbalance I guess. But it feels like it’s more than that.
It doesn’t help that I still haven’t taken my meds, even though I should’ve taken them six hours ago. It doesn’t help that it’s 4 am either.
It doesn’t help that I’m miserable.
My crush keeps pointing out people who are cute, keep saying things that I see as hints, hints to their knowledge of my bordering-on-unhealthy crush.
I’m scared, I’m legitimately scared because of possible rejection.
Thing is, we’re friends. And I’ve never gone through that before. I’ve always had a crush like from the very beginning, as if I think “wow this person is attractive, and a great person too!” and now everything’s all weird and kind of crooked and why why why.
Did I mention it’s 4 am?
I think I did.
My head’s all weird, I’m all weird and I wish I could just be better and more desirable and more interesting and talented.
But I’m not.
I’m just a cocked up tosser who can’t do anything, whose only talent is crying over fictional characters and get too emotionally invested in series and such.
The only things I can do is sit around and hope, hope with all of my being, that someone will finally notice me for the person I am (read: hysterical clinically depressed teenager with PTSD) and not for someone who is shy or bitter or a twat.
Because I’m not, you know.
I’m actually not.
And that people think I am kills me a little inside.
I’m sorry my exterior doesn’t match up to my interior. I have to put a brave face on in school and in public because I want to kill myself every waking hour.
‘Cause I know my weakness, know my voice,
And I believe in grace and choice
And I know perhaps my heart is fast,
But I’ll be born without a mask
– Mumford & Sons