This is an excerpt from a journal I kept back in 2013. It’s one of my absolute favorites.
I want to write about something that has been on my mind lately. Masochism. Nothing turns me on unlike self-inflicted harm. Well, that’s not 100% true, I don’t get off on misery but I think I am addicted to it. By this pain I mean emotional, not physical (maybe under the right circumstances). To elaborate a little more, I seem to hurt myself in many different ways. I deprive myself of sleep and food, and some days I get too much of both. Some days I smoke too many cigarettes and some days I have none. But finally, I bring myself down a lot on a daily basis and there are an infinity amount of ways that I do that.
Trying to better myself doesn’t seem very hard or far-fetched. But instead I spend most of my free time in my room eating away at myself. I remind myself that I’m killing the last few friendships I care about and how I waste my time sulking, thinking I have no one to count on, but I actually do.
All I really have left is this tired body of mine. All the negativity really took a toll into my soul. I feel defeated. But I really should take some ownership on my rottenness. I’m lonely, sad and out of shape. This is who I am. This is me. I’ve always been told that loving yourself is one of the most crucial things to being happy, and maybe one day I will love myself. Yeah, this is who I am and I’m pretty okay with it sometimes.
Fake it ’til ya make it, yeah?
Things I do don’t make me happy, but I might as well be happy doing them. I feel like everyday I’m disappearing more and more. My sleep is completely fucked. I stay up a day or two at a time, and then I just sleep days away. My dreams know when I’m in pain because they try to soothe me. They fool me into thinking I’m awake and happy. I’ll dream that I’m watching a movie or something with my friends, just getting along and having a good time and then I’ll wake up to a lonely, dark room. Disappointed, I’ll shut my eyes and try to go back to sleep. I could lose my days like this. Give them up for moments that aren’t even real.
When I’m awake and not at school, I’ll do everything possible that I like to distract myself. Netflix, books, YouTube, video games; as long as I’m not thinking I’m pretty okay. Thinking leads me to dwelling which leads to sadness. Sometimes I meditate and try to figure myself out. It’s hard because my brain is bombarded by negative thoughts and feelings that I bring upon myself. But when I do fight those off I manage to see a small glimpse of who I am, and who I’m trying to be. Like I said, becoming a better person isn’t hard, I just make it that way. I used to be so sure of what I wanted.
I had goals. I had drive. I had morals. I had passion. I had confidence. I buried all these things awhile ago.
At the end of the day, I’m just very confused. I’m not so sure what I want out of life, and I’m not sure how I would begin to ask myself that question. Sometimes they’re goodbyes and sometimes they’re hellos. This time, I hope it’s goodbye.