Internet is such a petty way of finding happiness, but for a moment logging onto my laptop and email, for a moment I was happy. Another step closer.
I just want to get out of here. At least I’ve moved to my own room. It’s a little quieter, but still nerve-wracking and anxiety-ridden. I don’t understand how this is making me “foster self-value.”
Things learned thus far at Middlesex Hospital…
Don’t go to the bathroom at night.
People your age help you more than the nurses. The nurses avoid you like the plague since you’re in such a “fragile state of mind” and wouldn’t want anything to “upset” you, but the girl I roomed with flipped me off from her bed and liked to talk about things.
“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Her frail pale-white lips breathed out these words with much struggle, it seemed. Her heart was beating barely strong enough to keep her tiny bones from crumbling. She has no fat, she has no pigment, and barely thick enough skin holding her tiny frame all together.
I’d trade places in a heartbeat, I thought.
You never really think you’ve hit rock bottom. Then it hits you like fucking ton of bricks. Now, I’m sitting on top of the pile,wondering what to do next. I can’t tell if it’s like being born, or starting over. My mind is constantly racing.
The three main questions that play like a broken mixtape in my head are…
1. How did I let myself get here.
2. What do I do next.
3. Why hasn’t this fucking sadness and pain gone away.
I’ve been cut off from friends and family with the exception of wednesdays and weekends for the past two-ish weeks and for what, to start a fucking tumblr and just feel more miserable? Hooray I got to bring my laptop, but still no phone. If anything, this is more dangerous to my self well-being. Everytime I see his twitter he’s pawing at this fucking nicole girl. Fucking pathetic, I can’t tell if it’s entertainment or a different form of self-inflicted pain.
A little bit about myself/how I used to be
I got lost along the way. But I used to be super happy and bubbly all the time and I was always on the go. I literally loved long walks on the beach and candle-lit dinners. The trouble was finding someone to keep up with my insanely active pace.
We grew up together so he could always match my swift rate.
I’m an ex-psychology major and my mother hates me for it. Apparently I was supposed to be a doctor. I’m now a COMM major, or at least, I still think I am. I email all my assignments since I haven’t been to class.Oh and I am a sorority sister.
Weird how all this normal-girl stuff turned so ugly, huh?
A little bit about myself now
I don’t party…partying as a hipster, far too mainstream.
I like hookah bars and staying at my friends’ dorm, I don’t drink because I’m too afraid of throwing up, and afraid of losing control.
Alcohol made my high school sweetheart have oral sex with someone else.
Well, that feels good out in the open, considering no one will probably be reading this. This was just suggested of another girl to help “get it out”
I got mixed up with an older guy for about a month and that’s when things turned to shit. I was really happy, with a new flow of friends being toted around to various autumn art festivals, the RISD museum, getting together to paint or sculpt at AS 220. Then we show up at a holiday party together, *he* thinks I’m seeing him, and hits third base with this fat girl with a pushed in nose and bad hair. I’m not sad in one way because I think I can call myself way more pretty than she ever will be.
I work hard, I exercise, and I brush my hair. Guess he digs the pigs now.
A part of me hopes he gets an STD from the other guys I’ve seen her with around school. Another part of me hopes not in case we get back together. Either way, the intimacy between us has been smacked out of the air like a jet plane hitting a flock of birds.
So, I guess you can’t guess what lead to this whole thing!
I’m sure you’ll figure it out with future posts.
Manic-depressives are happy then sad.
I cry a lot, then get angry and even more sad.
For now, my most important question.
2. What the fuck do I do next…