Adolescent Effusive

What's that smell?

Clinique Bonus Time? I wish. God, Zac, I miss you so much.
I'd say that smell is fresh sliced defeat.
I succumb to my greif. I'm done pretending I feel "okay" or "just fine." I feel like steaming shit. Not all the time, but it's often enough. And it's wearing me down and it's not fair to the people around me because it makes me treat them in ways they don't deserve. The people I love deserve a Mary Kate that doesnt cry every day for no reason or one that dumps all her sadness on them.
I'm done. Just finished.
I knocked myself upside the head this morning and forced myself to accept the fact that I am not okay, nor is it healthy to think that I'm this granite slab that can take all of this weight and just keep adding every day. I was bent over in front of my dresser, Maroon 5 string tribute in the background, and I'm trying to get my stupid pants on by light of these cheap Christmas lights I hung up to make life softer and my stupid/lovely cat is playing with my wet hair like it's yarn and patting my bare back with her paw and I'm thinking, "What the hell am I doing? Why am I pretending I'm glad to get up and go to school?"
That was a run-on.
I'm feeling better. I really am. I'm occupying myself. I'm distracting myself from everything that bothers me. Which is way more than Zac's absense. I don't even think about him that often. Well, in ratio to how it used to be. Every little thing cuts me to deep, and I'm sick of it.
I'm not going to be like the rest of my family and let stress and depression fester until I have to be hospitalized/medicated for it. I refuse to give into what my genetics predispose me to. It's totally unfair and I won't stand for it.
So, I've decided that it's in my best interest to go and "talk to someone." I feel weak and defeated for it, but I have to suck up my pride and just do it. The most major amount of stress in my life is put on me by myself. Its this concentrated, tearing pressure to be okay, to be changed for the better, to be well-rounded, to be a good daughter, to be an interesting girlfriend, to be a loyal friend.
And you know what I've realized? I'm killing myself. Why am I putting so much pressure on me? It's hurting more than its helping. It's so stupid and, honestly, embarassing. I'm supposed to be put-together and authoratative and in conrtol. I'm not anymore. Something whipped the rug out from underneath me and, dammit, I'm just gonna march across the room, get the damned rug, drag it back to where the sun hits it just right, and stand on it.
The only thing is, I can't do it by myself or with the people around me. They help, but not enough. It's not their fault and I don't resent them. I'm just sick of waiting to be saved. It's childish of me to place all of my faith in other people. I'm not shutting people out, I'm just trying tp protect myself. I don't have to change how I feel about them, I just have to change how I feel without them. I need to have something left for myself. Just a little bit.
This is so disorganized.
Whatevs. You don't have to read it.
Carissa was such an amazing help to me. I was bowling gutter balls and... I don't know. It was just me and her and we were just existing together. We weren't ripping on each other like we always do and we weren't peeing our pants laughing. Don't get me wrong, I love that stuff. However, it was nice to just be today. She really seems to get me even though she doesnt know all that much about me. It's nice to have someone relatively fresh in my life.
Also, Ryan Kucharski is a good boy. Sitting across from him in lunch is one of the best parts of my day. I don't know why, specifically. It's just because he seems so relaxed and satisfied. Maybe he's not, but he just gives off that air. He just laughs when he thinks something's funny and doesn't when he doesn't. He wears what he wants and doesn't brush his hair and it's just plain refreshing. He never talks about school work or classes. It's awesome.
And, with that, I'm going to go....maybe do some studying. I don't know.

Maybe when I'm not so tired
Maybe you could step inside
Maybe when I look for things that I cant replace.
If I could be your first real heartache, I would do it over again.
~Punk Rock Princess, Something Corporate

This post was quite the junk drawer.

posted by M.Jazz @ 6:37 PM