I hate that I am really just another miserable, angsty teenager. I really hate that. I hate that so many people feel this fucked up, I hate that I am not the only one that feels this way. I just hate that even my sadness is unoriginal.
On a better day this may be a comfort- that other people feel the same. But not really and not at all right now. I want to own my sadness, I don’t want to share it. And I suppose that that makes no sense- why would anyone be so possessive of pain? Â I don’t know, all I know is that I am possessive of my sadness and I don’t want to share it, as twisted as that may sound.
I don’t want people to feel the same, I don’t want people who understand what it’s like, I want this to be my own. And I suppose that the selfishness that comes with it is just another common thing. And I don’t want to be common. I don’t want to be another number, a statistic, I don’t want my death to be one of many, or my sadness.
I want it to be mine, all mine. I want to be special and original and unforgettable, I want to be the first and only person to feel the way I do good and bad. I want to be incredible, a mystery, someone that never could be figured out. But I’m not and I never will be and there must be people out there who feel exactly the same and I don’t want there to be.
Maybe I’m staying sad because until now I felt like my sadness was more my own than it really is, or maybe I’m staying sad because feeling sad makes you feel, in some way, completely separate from everyone else and I wanted that. All I know is that I don’t even need to be sad, it’s ridiculous! But I am sad and I am just one of many people my age who are miserable and feel exactly the way I do. And like I said, I hate that.
Then how do I get out of it? By allowing myself to be happy, I imagine. But that’s far easier said than done, because once you’ve the sadness in, it doesn’t go away without a fight. Maybe a happier version of myself could be more than just one of many, maybe if I was less fixated on being a loner I would be better at being the original person I so desperately wish I was.
And again, the need to be original and different is just another part of this stupid uniform teen angst. And I don’t want it! I want to be so much more and I don’t know how I can be. And I know I feel like so many other people but I wish I didn’t. All I want is to be special and memorable and something new. But I’m not and probably never will be until I lose this desire to be.
Even if I ended it all, I wouldn’t be anything special. The only way I can end up meaning something is to continue living, I suppose. I just hope that once I’ve found a way to be happy, something to give my life meaning, that I will be content and less set on being all the things I want to be. So I suppose that suicide’s not really an option if I want to be different, I can’t see any other options other than just living and trying to break the cycle of uniformity. If I knew how, though, it would be a whole lot easier.