The begining of the end?

I have never felt as lonely and different than I do at college.

Remember when I thought it was my great escape?

It just makes everything worse.


I'm so tired, constantly sick to my stomach, and I know that if I just disappeared, nobody would even notice.

Or care.

Except for the people I can't even drive to see.

Fuck this, I'm getting my license and a GPS unit and hitting the goddamn road.



College is for pussies. I'll do my learning on the road.




Come see the world with me?

If I say it out loud, will that make it better?

Today while reading postsecret and then scanning the forums, I decided something. Instead of sending in my secrets for people who don't know me to care, I'm going to post them here. So that whoever you are, you can read it. You probably know me. I don't blame you for stopping now, who really wants to know that much about another person? -I am going to do every drug humanly possible in order to inspire myself and write something truly good. I've already done prescription drugs and came up with a surrealist piece, and most of my poems are written just before I pass out on my bed and half-cry myself to sleep. Alcohol tends to bring out the worst in me, and that usually makes for the best poetry. -The real reason I want to be published is not so people will admire me and my work, but so I might finally be able to feel loved. I don't know how I made the connection, but it's the only thing that pushes me forward. -I haven't slept well since I stopped drinking and taking pills. I know it's my own damn fault, but I can't help considering grabbing a bottle when it's 7.30 in the morning and my head is filled with thoughts I can't escape without the help of sleep. -I haven't been happy since you stopped giving me those little words of encouragement every week. I really needed that to hold on. Sorry. -I can spend hours doing my hair and makeup and picking out my clothes, but one look at any of you and I can see how pathetic the attempt was. Jeans and a t-shirt, without makeup, hair in a ponytail..you're everything I wish I could be. There's more, but I can't bring myself to spell them out. This is just the tip of the ice burg, the things I can type without fighting myself mentally. Hope you enjoyed. White texted, so, you know, you don't HAVE to read.

I need to go write some more.

Perhaps the begining of a beautiful friendship..

I've tried my hand at starting an actual story. Would you like to read it? No? Well, I'll force it on you anyways. It's short, and not very good, and I apologize because I am an awful author. I don't really know where I got the idea I was ever good at any of this, because..because I obviously am not. I am almost okay with that, too. I've spent most of my life being good at nothing, so the thought I would ever be a writer should have never crossed my mind. And I should have known that the minute I stopped being 'good' at something everything would go back to the way it was before. I'm nobody again, nothing, useless, and maybe it does hurt a little to know my family cares so little. Of course I won't be the golden child. I don't play an instrument, I'm not 'pretty'. I can do nothing for them other than clean up the house, take care of the child, be a verbal punching bag.


Well, that got out of hand quickly.

I'm sorry, I won't show you what I've written after all.


It hardly seems worth it, in the end.







Maybe another time.