A Journal Entry from March 22, 2015

i'm trying to be happy with who I am. but i'm reading nicki minaj articles instead of hamlet and i'm telling my friends to retweet a picture of my face that took me two hours to decide to post and i'm lying to my mom and it's getting easier to skip church and I just feel so yucky because I didn't have dinner and i'm thinking that maybe if I chop off my hair it'll take some of my emotional baggage with it. i'm so hungry I could puke. I want a friend. that's all I really want. come study Shakespeare with me. bring a pizza and let's crack it open, you know? I think i'm in love with the idea of someone I've never met and don't plan on ever meeting, and I think that's why i'm in love with them. they're not real. that's the best part. they don't exist any place else except my head, and that's where they'll stay: trapped, just like me. because I wake up every morning and I regret it. as the day goes on I lose a little bit of myself and by the time I crawl back into bed i'm thinking of all the things I didn't do, of all the time I've wasted, of all the people that aren't thinking about me and i'm biting my nails until they're sore and i'm trying to remember all the nice things people said to me, because there have been many, but they all blend together and nothing stands out because none of it ever meant anything to me. I never cared what anyone said because I never really cared about them and it turns out that I am in fact the cold, heartless bitch I claim to be. and people say it's easier, but let me tell you, it's not. God makes sure of that. the lack of emotion or feelings is so vast and endless that it hovers over my Grinch sized heart and with each feeling I've lost, the emptiness expands, and now I think I am jus a hollowed out teenage girl who hasn't lived enough of a life to sustain her through adulthood.