𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧 **𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐮𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫**

a woman's diary holds the secrets to the world

This is not something I enjoy, just something I must do.

I'm writing this because I can't explain my feelings without crying, and crying makes me look weak and to be honest, I really can't take that these days. I don't know why but I don't feel like enough, I mean how could I ever be enough? I'm not the prettiest, or the smartest, or even have the best fashion sense, not to mention how much character my personality lacks. Then if I feel enough, I feel like that's too much, like I feel like people are overwhelmed with how fast it changes. Sometimes I don't feel anything though, I don't feel enough or too much, I just don't feel like anything exciting happens during that numb period of time. Maybe it's normal? Or maybe it isn't, I don't care much to find out though, because as long as I continue to write this down, I don't have any problems. I won't have problems with school, with him, with family, with expectation, with life in general. I will get to wash them away with the sly and precise writing that I will continue to write until I surprise myself with how I'm feeling. I want to feel something other than disappointment in myself and I fear this is the only way to feel anything at all.

I can't put into words how much I hate talking about my feelings because one swift tug at them and an avalanche just starts rolling out. I cry when I'm angry and I cry when I feel misunderstood. Even if I am feeling bad, I try to prevent myself from crying and prevent myself from letting anyone ever see me like that. Crying is not something I can handle. I feel like spending time on feelings is such a waste of life, but I can't keep it in myself forever, not when it could get me off guard and grope it's way out of my mouth when I'm around people. If I ever had one wish, it would be not to feel pity of any sort. I pity myself, my friends, my family, just the human civilization as a whole. I have too much hope in the mockery that we call progress and too much invested in it actually happening. I will continue to gaslight myself into believing that life will get better from here.

It doesn't. Life isn't like that. I am scared of all that life can bring to me because I'm scared that I am too naive and will get myself killed. I'm scared of the dark, I'm scared of death, I'm scared of rejection, I'm scared of loving and trusting people, but the fear that consumes me the most, is my fear of failure. I can't handle even thinking of it without my breathing becoming shallow and my thoughts of my perfect future slowly slipping away.

I wish I was one of those kids who were disguised from the real world and brought up in the fantasy of this perfect world until the day I died, I'm not though. Dad left, bills got higher and higher, people dying, expectations rising, life just getting harder and harder until the point where the only thing you have left to do is pity yourself and work up until the day you die. What a shame? People work so hard just to die off in the end and that's where the question of what's the point of life comes into my mind. If I had any question to ask God, it would be just that. "Why must I work so hard for my life to one day just be gone and for those a couple of years and centuries after me to forget my entire existence leaving me to be nothing but forgotten dust?" Then what would be the point? Honestly it's puzzled me for all these years as to what my purpose was and how I would leave a mark on this world. Maybe I'll rob a bank when I'm older, like 96 or so, so I'd be like the oldest criminal, but I don't think I could find it in me. I don't think I could find anything in me.

I don't think you'd find a heart, sure you'll see my stomach, my intestines, but a heart, no. I have let my heart be ripped apart by the world, by my own family, by my friends, by my need to be everyone's favorite person in the world. This is another thing I'm not. Feelings disgust me, but when I write it here, it's like therapy.

- Eloise