It's been over a month. It's also 2011. It's okay, I haven't cut so far this year. But I've wished to die, but not nearly as often as I've wished to leave.
It's so peaceful when I get away. I relax, and you know, I'd almost go as far as to say I'm happy. Nobody to tell me how ungrateful I am, how useless I am, how unappreciative I am. I'm somebody. I'm useful. There's a point. It takes less than five minutes for my family to take this away from me. It always happens on the car ride home. And I can't say this to anyone. Not my family, not my friends. Just my mostly faceless readers. I don't understand why things have to be this way. Is it more disruptive staying or leaving?
People talk these next two years up as the most important two years of anyone's schooling life. It's make or break time. A time that requires stability and focus. I have neither. I'm not even at school and I hate the thought and my family is making sure that stability is almost non-existent.
Am I being unreasonable and selfish though? So many times people have said to me "what have you got to be sad about" (or words to that effect). And sometimes I wonder. Because I have a family, food, a home, friends, I go to school, I'm smart... I think this is why I have so much trouble talking to people. Because they think I'm being selfish. That I'm doing this of my absolute free will. That I enjoy this. I suppose it's okay to think like that when you're on the outside and you don't have to live with it.
I've kind of forgotten where this was going and I think I've accidentally managed to change the subject. So I'll just wander off about now.
- CG
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