I’m just so… Tired.
As I’m sitting here, inside and out of the stifling heat, I’m finding it hard to get the words out as to how I’ve been feeling. It’s faded, to a muted roar in the background, so that now I feel numb and so drained that I can barely think.
Today was an exhausting and excruciating day of shopping. From the minute I got out of the hotel, I started to feel terrible; I was being productive this morning, and so it didn’t feel that bad. But throughout the day, I felt sick: miserable, destructive, shattered in the way that I felt hopeless.
No: I FEEL hopeless.
“Elm, don’t scratch at your chest,” my dad said, not understanding that I’d been so furious at myself before that it was the closest thing I could hurt, to make myself feel human and pain and it didn’t work. Staring up at the ceiling, a strip of light the only thing I could see, wishing I was just away from everything so I could breathe or scream until my lungs burst. One word responses. So silent that I felt as if I was barely there, only snapping once – and after that, I viciously screamed at myself inside my head.
To me, it makes no sense as to why I feel so awful. The exhaustion felt bone-deep, today and yesterday, my heart pumping anger and so much tiredness around my body that I felt ill with it.
I despise the way my family acts, sometimes. The way my stepmother doesn’t understand my basic moods; my sister, who for some reason is getting on my nerves and my dad, who laughed when i got angry. The fact that I couldn’t even pretend around them, the world receeding into a fog of terrifying grey, where the smallest things wanted to make me twist my arms behind my back, or test just how far my wrists could turn. I called myself pathetic, yelled it at my stupid mind, because I couldn’t fucking snap myself out of my stupie daze.
Life feels like it’s spinning out of control. Back in England, I actually felt like I had my shit together, whereas now when I don’t do my homework I can’t entirely blame it on myself. That’s messed up: the fact that I find it so much easier to tell myself I’m disgusting than to realise it’s not my fault.
Nothing could give me energy today. I feel listless, broken almost, in the sense that my responses to everything are dulled. They think I’m tired, and I am: just not because I’ve had no sleep.
I’m tired of feeling like this. My body feels weak, and all I want to do is curl up and scream. Everything feels pointless, stupid, and the only thing I’m looking forward to is after the dreaded Result’s Day.
I have a feeling I’ve messed loads of things up to do with friends. Played with people’s emotions, not been myself, not talked to them enough. I still don’t have a clue what to do about my love life, and the answer should be simple enough, but it isn’t.
God, I can’t even explain to you why I feel this way. It usually comes naturally, the words flowing out of me so that I feel better, but now they’re hitting a block and only getting passed it in bursts.
I don’t want to go out tonight. I want to sit here, wallowing like the sad piece of shit I am. It came to me today just how exhausted I am, how much I feel like life is stretching before me with no glimmer of anything positive, much. Yes, there are the odd things that will happen, but right now I feel so negative that I can’t see them.
I flinched away from physical contact, earlier, my shoulders stiff and my eyes dead. I’m so done with most things, and I’m shouting that this is attention-seeking, that I should stop talking and live my life and move on from this.
It’ll get better, I say, if I stop contemplating it too much. But I know that if I don’t write at least some of this down, I’ll want to die later on. I already think I’m not worth much, so it doesn’t make much difference, but it’s the principal of that matter.
To be honest, I feel rather childish. Like if I just try harder, I’ll feel better; this is supposed to be a HOLIDAY. I almost feel as if I’m throwing a tantrum, that my family thinks I am, or that posting about this is a dumb idea. But who knows, it might help me to sort out my muddled emotions.
Writing about this has helped, in some way. I still feel tired, and so blank, but it’s lessening a little. My throat’s choking up from the fact that I’ve not done any homework today, and that I’ve been so incredibly sulky and acted like a baby, but I don’t give a shit.
I’ll try and swallow back my self-hatred, even if that means faking being happy. I sometimes wonder why people bother with me, or why I botheo with myself, but then I remember that people do actually like me and that there are reasons for that.
I’m sorry. I haven’t written such a disjointed post in a while.
From Elm 🙂