Notebook

For whoever reads this…I’m sorry for wasting your time.

I’m not sure when this all started…when I began to feel empty inside. I’m a senior in high school. I often find myself thinking about life and if it has a meaning or worth. When I begin to reflect on my life, I believe that my friends start to distance themselves from me. I zone out in class, conversations, homework…you name it, I’ve probably reflected on my life at least once every hour of the day. I get so depressed when I think about my life. I sometimes don’t think I should…that I’m ungrateful for the life I have. People don’t really know who I really am. They see me as an A+ student whose friendly and helpful but that’s not who I am. I don’t even know who I am. When I tell  people that I’m stressed out, they brush it off as if I’m being dramatic and that this will pass because they see me stressed and then normal the next moment. I’m not “normal the next moment”…I’ve just realized that I’ve confided in the wrong person. Most people are so used to believing that what they see on the surface, that “good student”, is actually me and that I have a perfect life.

I have a life, now, but its not perfect. I’m under so much stress and guilt that I often start tearing up when I talk to people or write in my notebook/diary. I had a tumour a few years ago. That moment was stressful and I never really opened up to people about it. I just smiled and tried to be brave for my family and friends. I didn’t want them to see how scared I was, to further add to their worries. At night, I’d crash and just start crying. Eventually, during the treatment process, I stopped crying. I wanted to live my life. I wanted to get better. Now that’s all over but I’m in even more stress now from other things. My doctor and my family have realized, my friends almost. I don’t know where that “will to live” has gone.

I write in my diary when I’m stressed or really happy. Lately those posts have been filled with sadness. I think that I’m worthless, a mistake, and destined a life of unhappiness. People can tell me that I’m amazing or that I’m a nice person and that I shouldn’t give up but….they don’t really know me. The little bit that I’ve written here doesn’t fully represent the scope of my life or my problems. In fact, I don’t even know myself…so how can I help myself? I have thought of suicide but I know I won’t actually do it. I think I’ll just “end it” mentally, stop feeling/thinking, and live an empty shell. People don’t acknowledge my cry for help and my diary can only keep my sanity for so long…I don’t know what to do anymore.