my distress doesn’t come from being in college. my insecurities don’t come from being here and suddenly realizing i don’t amount to shit. it stems from a family life that deeply ingrained in my mind that i’m a retard and that i will never succeed in life.

sure they’ll lie to the public. they’ll talk about how great i am. sure they’ll pretend our life is perfect. even to my face. but then when i’m asleep or out of earshot — so they think — i hear the shit they’ve said about me.

don’t you love it when you know where your problems stem… and yet you can’t do anything to fix it because it’s so unbearably fucked up that you can’t even begin to imagine how to change yourself. it’s like normal people are a brand-new ball of yarn. and i’m an unraveled piece of shit that cats have played with.

I put myself through this distress and I know it, but I can’t let go of it. The feeling is the only feeling truly familiar to me. This feeling doesn’t scare me any more. This feeling is almost comforting… simply because i can recognize it coming.

The feeling that scares me the most is ultimate happiness. The feelings that I run away from are those feelings that make you feel so good you lose yourself.

I can express my feelings like this not because I’m keen or because I’ve suddenly discovered the fact that I’m a disturbed person on the inside. It’s because I’ve known these feelings all my life and I’ve had years and years to form the words to describe these feelings. years of thinking to myself. years of feeling as if nothing I do will help my anguish.