july 20, 2016: a frustrated cry for help

how can you even breathe through those blocked lungs of yours? you hold your truths inside of them and let them rest. yet they are restless. they will rip you apart.

how do you even express yourself when youre not sure what youre feeling? you want the world to listen to you but your words cant seem to stand still and form the right sentences or even sentences that make sense at all. you're angry, at least you know that and maybe even a little sad but there's so much more. what are you feeling? how can a therapist ask you that? how can a teacher ask you that?

how can you simply measure your emotions on a scale of 1-10? numbers cant even begin to speak for me. a 10 is the best and today i am the best. but somewhere in between there's an undertone of a 6. what does 6 mean? you're not feeling great but not sad enough to be coaxed up to a 10. i lied. im never a 10. im probably never a 6 either. i dont want to say im a 1, because then im depressed. and depression is bad? its a "serious" issue that i shouldnt even be feeling because im a teenager. teenagers are supposed to be constantly constant. a straight line that keeps align with school, following the rules, and occasionally fitting in with the rest of them.

how do you expect me to move on when the beginning of my adolescence was spent mooning over a wish that could never be true. years and tears spent and wasted in my bedroom writing letters that would never reach the recipent. how could i be so foolish? i locked myself away for hours and hoped not to wake. the sun reminded me of a new day but to me rather 24 hours of endless thoughts of a wish that could never be true.