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First off, I'd like to say, it's 2:40 where I live. I'm not going to make a whole lot of sense. I'm tired, but cannot sleep, my head is pounding, my room is hot, and I'm so depressed. Secondly, I don't want to see any pity comments should I get comments at all. Support and encouragement might be nice, honesty would be appreciated, but I do not want anyone's pity. Anyway, onward with the entry I suppose.
As I've already stated, I'm tired. In fact, I'm so tired that I can barely see. But I cannot sleep. Why? That's what I'd like to know, too. Personally, I think that I'm afraid to have any nightmares. My nightmares may seem funny to one who is awake, but when I am sleeping, and my loved ones are being killed in horrific methods, my nightmares are the most terrifying things I've ever experienced. Another possible explanation for this sleepless tiredness is that I don't feel safe in my room at night. There are poisonous spiders, there are roaches, I'm afraid that someone will break in and rape me or kill my family. These fears may seem unreasonable, but they really aren't. When I was very little, 3 maybe, I was being babysat at a a bowling alley while my parents were bowling. In fact, the same alley is like a second home to me now. But, while being babysat, the sitter sent me to the big bathrooms with one of her helpers. This seems harmless enough, but it really wasn't. The girl she sent me with dragged me into an empty stall, bared my a**, and spanked me. I had done nothing wrong. I was abused by that girl, plain and simple. For all I know, it could have happened before. All I remember is this one time. And there wasn't a lot I could have done about it. She'd threatened me not to tell. That "or else" was left hanging over my head. I never went back while she was there, though. I know that much for sure. I have no idea what happened to her. She's just a haunting memory now, nameless though she is. And haunt me she does. I had a fear of public restrooms after that. I would not use them if they did not have a locking door and were for single person use, and I wouldn't even use those until about second grade. I'd pissed my pants several times in my earlier youth because I'd rather be embarrassed than have to use the restroom. Eventually, the humiliation got to me and I forced myself to use them, but even now, I feel very uneasy in a public restroom.
The roaches and the poisonous spiders I don't really think need explained, although the spiders are the kind that don't usually bother people.
Now, on to my pounding headache. I can't really lay down because that makes it worse. That also causes sleep to be a tad bit difficult to achieve. But, I am too stubborn to take enough Aleve to make it stop, not to mention that I have no desire whatsoever to overdose myself on painkillers ever again. Yes, you read that right. I've overdosed before, also in my early, early years. I was two. I don't even remember doing it. I just know what my mother's told me. And from that small bit of information, I don't want to go through any of the fun they put me through in that emergency room ever. Having your stomache pumped doesn't sound like a pleasant thing, and my mother says that, judging by my screaming, it probably wasn't. So, no painkiller for me tonight.
Next, my room is like an oven. I'm sitting still wearing a giant T-shirt. Not exactly the kind of clothing one would wear for warmth. And yet, warmth is about all there is. I'm tempted to venture out to the lightswitch down the hall so that I can turn on my fan. I think I will. Excuse me for a second. I'll be back to finish this in a minute. *goes to turn on the lightswitch and fan, returning a few minutes later* Well, now my room is considerable louder, and still oven like, but a little better.
Lastly, my depression. I'm not one of those that is constantly depressed. I can drag myself into a state of delusional happiness, but I do spend a lot of my time in a depressive mood, even if it doesn't show. I'm dealing with it better than I was a year and a half ago, if only just. The temptation is there, but the desire isn't really with it. I do have my rare moments where things seem so bleak that I do want to do it so badly that my fingers twitch and my skin crawls. But at these moments I call someone and pretend to be happy for just a few minutes, and then the urge is gone, replaced by a feeling of "I can be happy if I really want to" and for a while, happy I will be. But it will always come back. I don't really know what more I can do. The pretend happy is about all I've got. That and the promise from my boyfriend to make sure that I don't do anything completely stupid and dangerous to my health. But if I could have one wish that I was guaranteed would come true, I would wish to be free of this depression-like state that I always end up in. And I think that I am truly getting worse, when one year ago, I was sure that I was getting better and that everything would be alright. Maybe it's because the end of school is coming and I'll be attending the senior's graduation, not because I know so many of them, but because my brother would have been one of them had he lived. And that thought hurts me. In fact, it hurts me so badly that tears have come to my eyes an are rolling down my face. Yet I feel that I cannot sob as I so long to do, and so my grief is silent and stronger for it. If this stage of my pitiful excuse of a life does not kill me, then surely it will make me stronger as the saying goes. "What does not kill you makes you stronger." What a price to pay fpr strength! Is it truly worth this much pain? Should a mind be able to endure so much sorrow? Should it, but it does. And it could take so much more. I know that I could survive worse than this. I know it in my mind, just as I know it with my heart. I have suffered, this is true. I have watched people dying, this is also true. But I have not seen the world at it's worst. I have not suffered the worst that I will. I will always suffer to some extent, but it could always be worse than what it is, unless I reach the point of breaking for my mind and body and I cannot possibly suffer any more. I hope that I shall never reach that point.
Forgive my long-winded tales of sorrow and pain that are probably not nearly as great as they seem. And to my friends that I see every day at school, don't tell me not to disregard my problems and put them off as unimportant because, in the course of the world, that is all they are. Unimportant. And don't worry about this one lowly person. I don't worry about myself, so why should you worry for me? Worry for yourselves as I worry for you. And smile when it's needed. Smiles are the wonderful ways to show emotions, second only to your eyes. Eyes truly are windows to the soul. Most have the curtains parted and the shutters open, but in some the curtains are drawn and the shutters nailed shut. Don't be the latter. 3nodding