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I wonder: I've been feeling so lonely lately; could he key to happiness be a new relationship? Maybe all I really need is someone to talk to, be with, belong to. But what kind of person could ever tolerate me? Holding someone while they cry is nice once in awhile. But who could stand it every day? There's northing ahead of me. Who'd understand that? I'm so sensitive and pouty, it's a wonder I have any friends at all. After a while, the words "it's alright" lose their meaning, and the need for repetition itself becomes proof that nothing is even close to alright. And who could ever want that? Why would anyone give so much of themselves to me? I can't offer anything. Even the strongest love, from a mixed up person like me, loses its worth very quickly. So I'm alone. No one holds me when I cry; I just curl up into a little ball. There's no soulmate for me. And maybe that's the real reason for my emptiness. I think, if I ever do grow up, I'd like to be a rock star. It's not like I'd need any actual talent to get a record deal. Just makeup and pretty clothes and something to say. I do have things to say, don't I? Not pleasant things, but there are very few people nowadays who bother with pleasant things. I can whine all I want, and as long as I play some minor chords and scream a lot, people will listen to me. Then again, maybe I don't want to share my thoughts with more people than I already have. I've had enough people come to me after reading something here and saying ''Oh, I feel exactly the same way." It's really horrible to think that there are people out there who are just as sad and lonely and pathetic as I am. I hope they're lying. Maybe, instead of a rock star, I'll be a hermit. I've never liked large groups of people, anyway. Realization: There really is something wrong with me. Being sad like this is not normal. Today I laughed because I took a depression test, and got a 91.25. The paragrapg under said ''If you got over 50.. blah blah blah depression.. blah blah blah treatment." I laughed. And now I'm scared. My parents are scared too, I used to tell them about how I feel, and sometimes still try. They just nod and smile and agree to get me the help I need, but they never do. And I won't talk to a councilor, because the councilor can only tell my parents, and they seem to already have decided not to do anything. I really don't know what to do anymore. My kind of depression still allows me to do normal, every-day work, so I have to just go on. But the big emptiness inside me keeps getting bigger and bigger, and someday, there might not be anything left of me. I'm not gonna kill myselfl; I'll use the excuse that I'm not selfish enough to hurt so many people like that. But what do I do now? What do I do, indeed, with my grades slipping, and the tears coming, and no one here beside me? I spend too long in my fantasy place with Bowie and Phantom and Hedwig as it is, and even that doesn't really help anymore. There better be something wrong with me; I couldn't imagine a world where feelings like this are normal. So here's what happened: Me and Kate were sitting around on the floor, talking about god. And it turned oput that she believed in heaven and supernatural powers, and that those thoughts guided her in everything she did. I found out that I don't believe in anything. How fun. I have no faith, and all I expect after death is to rot underground (or maybe about ground, depending on how I die.) I'm such a grouchy, cynical-type person, and I didn't really know it untul now. I think that if there ever was a god, he/she/it probably got destroyed a long time ago. Who could possibly stand eternities watching over great lumps of chaos? And so I figure that we all control our own destinies. There's nothing to help us along, or even care where we are. Not that it matters, anyway. We all die and rot and make room for other things. Written records rot too. energy for computers runs out. So what'll be left of us when we're gone? Nothing. Eh, go take a happy pill or something, and get over it.
I'm tired. I am only as good as the two-digit numbers representing my grades tell me I am. I'm supposed to be depressed. It's as normal as the common cold. Why bother going outside and looking at things when the pictures I have on my computer are almost as good as the real thing? What's the point of discovering what life is really like, when TV makes it prettier and happier than life could ever be? Pretending and being aren't that different after all. Or are they?
I'm tired of being normal.
I'm not going to pretend anymore. I cry myself to sleep sometimes. I feel so empty. I can't imagine what "living happily ever after" is all about.
So: I realized what I'm missing. Faith.
Mathematicians have faith that the world is easily understood, and obeys all the rules they've worked so hard to prove. Religious people have faith in there different variations of God.
And what faith can I have? Sure, I can be anything I want to be, not that it makes any difference. I've never been important.
So I found Taoism. And I tried to so hard to keep faith in that. But I'm only 15. I'm not mature enough for the kind of faith I need. Still, if I try hard enough, Taoism works for brief periods of time. I still cry. And I'm still empty. But not all the time. That's better than nothing.
Nothing implies Something. Sadness implies happiness. But all it can do is imply. Something must will the implication to create. And even will often isn't strong enough. Not when the implication has been so distant for so long, you're not even sure what the truth of it is.
Knowledge is for understanding, not for grades.
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