03142010
so in an ideal world, right now, i would be on spring break. well yes, i am on spring break, but i would literally be somewhere that warrants the title ‘spring break’. not my living room in my house on a rainy night where the cravings to hurt myself are almost unquenchable, but somewhere with my friends doing something nice like i wanted to do.
so instead i am here, and fine, i can live with that. what i can’t live with is that i was not invited because of my apparent social awkwardness and weight issues. i’m sorry jeff fucking fonda, i did not realize that i was supposed to be living my life to please your fucking qualifications. i’m sorry i don’t hang out in your fucking crack den while you and your low life friends snort coke off the coffee table and take bong hits and swigs of cheap flavored vodka while listening to shitty music and watching you play little boy video games. if that what qualifies me as a functioning socially capable person, i would rather be whatever i am.
it is hurtful to know that people purposefully left me out of something and invited everyone else under the fucking sun on this trip. i wasn’t even the last resort. i wasn’t a resort at all, not even an option. that’s how disgusting i am apparently, that’s what i deserve.
and janine? thank you janine, as if my self-esteem and confidence isn’t low enough on a daily fucking basis, now i have to deal with the fact that your boyfriend targets every one of my insecurities and makes fun of them, excludes me from group activities, and tells his friends that he HATES me! HATES ME. he hates me, and you sat in front of me, lied to my fucking face about everything, said that he just wonders why i don’t hang out as much, and is just indifferent towards me. and you know what is even worse? i believed you, i believed every word out of your fucking mouth because you’re supposed to be my friend, you’re not supposed to allow your boyfriend to speak so harshly and cruelly of me, but you know what? you did, and not only did you allow it without defending me, but you laughed. you laughed along with his jokes about me, about my social capabilities, about my weight, about whatever else he has to say about me. does that sit well with you janine, are you feeling any guilt at all, whatsoever? or is it okay, is this just the way you treat people? i just don’t know anymore janine, because every fucking time that you turned around and told me how much you loved me, how good of friends we are, and how you would never turn your back on me, i believed you, but look where that has gotten me. i can’t sleep, i can’t live a normal fucking life because my anxiety has gotten the best of me, once again. i will be going through a million doctors and a million diagnoses until i am on something that allows me to breathe again, to think clearly, to sleep, to not cut open my fucking skin in order to feel something other than the absolute numbness and hurt that you have left me with.
i wish danielle would just realize what she has done is wrong. i pretty much have nothing else to say, other than that. she would be a really good person, a really successful human being if she would just realize what a bitch she is and admit it. that’s how much i care.
not to mention, i’m still 22 years old, still no kiss, no boyfriend, no nothing and it’s fucking killing me on the inside that my 15 year old brother is going to get there before me. i am crawling out of my skin at the fact that at 22 years old i have never even had a guy interested in me, and why? because of my weight. i hate myself. i honest to god, in this moment in time, hate myself. i am fighting everything right now to not hurt myself, and i have been trying everything lately to get the thought of not living anymore out of my fucking mind. i’m not brave enough to do that anyway, but i hate that it’s even still an option in my mind, i hate that it even crosses my mind. i just want to scream and get out of my fucking mind for a little while, just a little while so that maybe without me constantly self-destructing my life will come together.
i’m not on a beach, i’m not on a cruise, i’m not in some exotic place, or in an artsy town, or a theme park. i am in my living room, living through my self-loathing, barely holding on to the last ounce of sanity that i have. what are you doing?
