SICK SAD WORLD

I want to go to sleep early. I used to be afraid of sleep, because I’d always have just the worst nightmares.
I once dreamt I was swimming in the pool at the athletic center. I climbed out and looked at my wrists, and they were bleeding. I looked at my entire body, and it was bleeding. My body had no cuts or scratches; I was completely unscathed, yet blood was pouring out of me.

It is dark in my room. I refuse to turn on the light. It would feel too…awake. It’s night now. Light is too loud; I want to be silent.
Oh, now I can hear myself singing, Oh Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun- Please shine down on me. I bet that’s from Barney and Friends. I bet it is.

I wore a dress the other day. A gray one, with pink flowers. I bought it for fourteen dollars at the Forever21 in Charleston when I went to visit Rose last spring break. I wore it with black tights and my black leather biker boots. I wore my ear clamp, too. I wore my hair up in a bun, because I heard there’s lice going around, and I don’t want to risk anything. It’s funny how when you hear there’s lice, all of a sudden your scalp starts to itch.
But anyways, everyone told me I looked really pretty. And now I’m wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt and my hair is a mess because I haven’t washed it yet (you know, because lice like clean hair). I looked at myself in the mirror, and my ear clamp’s still on, and I thought, Wow, I don’t look half bad right now. But then I felt awful and shallow and I guess even though I still looked pretty, I felt ugly as sin. And then I realized that all the wrong people probably thought I looked pretty, too, which just makes me feel even more twisted up.

These people, they’re twisting me up, you know.

I love brown eyes. Dark, deep, brown eyes that you could stare at forever and get lost in.

I say a lot of empty things. I do things that feel empty to me. I hang out with people that are filled with air, hot air. I try to let myself get caught up in that fast-paced glamourous popular shit I feel so out-of-place in. I sometimes think that if I let myself go- let all my morals or cynicism go- I could be happier. But I don’t know if happiness is worth losing my entire identity over.

I’m tired, but I’m restless. I close my eyes and don’t fall asleep. I go to bed exhausted and wake up exhausted. People tell me, “You look tired” and ask me, “Rough night? Lot of work?” and I’m so damn sick of that.  Everyone always thinks there’s something wrong with me. That I’m never quite right. And I mean, I don’t know, maybe I give off the vibes of a tortured soul or something, but those aren’t exactly vibes that I want to give off, yeah?

I don’t want to give off those vibes. Shit, I don’t want to give off any vibes.

I used to make my parents proud, you know.