I know that I am unhappy. This is the first time that I write that down. Not even in 3rd grade, when I wanted to hang myself with my favorite scarf because the cooler smarter girls were picking on me. Not even in seventh grade, when I felt so out of place in my own life. Not even in eighth, when everyone I loved let me down. I don’t care that she’s bitching about me or that she’s trying to convince everyone that I am a liar that thinks that she’s better than everyone. Fuck that. I care about the fact that I don’t care. That a B- makes me feel just as numb as an A-, and that none of those letters make me happy. Or sad. They all make me feel the numbness that hides my spilling anger. Those letters won’t ever make me happy. So why can’t I stop? This lottery of life is one of the many lotteries that I seem to have won, and yet I feel as if I am losing. I AM losing. I don’t want to know what life has to offer anymore, because lotteries may make you win at first, but you always lose somehow on the long run. Always. It’s overwhelming.
Originally written October 19th 2016