there’s this idea that things get easier, but I think it’s just that people get better at faking it. I am sick of keeping a fake blog, so I’m just forgetting the other one and focusing on this. it’s true that I don’t have much time anymore, and I like it that way. less time to think. less time to worry.
so I make new friends and manage to separate myself more completely from my family. it feels like I’m living two lives. like there is this part of me that has to pretend to be what my dad sees, and there’s another part who is trying to figure out what is under that. it’s a puddle that just reflects back what it’s shown. I don’t think I’m anything. it’s like I’m watching myself do these things, but I can’t stop myself from acting.
I hear conversations that mean nothing. people talk and I have nothing to say. I respond in terrible ways, and I hear myself saying these things, but I can’t stop. I can’t take it back.
I don’t want to be weird and I don’t want to be normal. I just want to be me. I thought I found a place where I could be accepted, and it’s ok, but it’s still not what i need. it’s better than school and it gives me a place to be that isn’t home, and I guess that’s all I can ask for right now. mom used to say I think too much. maybe I do. or maybe it’s just that no one else is thinking enough.
I don’t think things will get easier. I don’t think people are essentially good. I don’t believe in heaven or hell. it all seems like fairy tales. I have all these things I don’t believe in. what is left? what is real? what can I do?