Somethin’ Bad

Today has been one of those days…like, I am writing this in my tiny little closet right now. That’s how pathetic I am. Tears are streaming down my face, messing up my make-up big time, not that I really care right now. I realize why I love being at work so much, despite wanting to pull my hair out because talking to these children is like talking to a brick wall. It’s still better than being at home. I feel like anything is better than being here.

So I needed to clean my desk since it was almost a bigger mess than my life. No surprise, though, I was too lazy to do it yet. My mom kept reminding me to do it, which really bugs me. I mean, when she asks me to do something like that. I know I have to do it, but let me do it when it’s good for me. The more she told me to do it, the more annoyed I got and the more I was going to put it off. And while I sound like a really whiny, spoiled brat, I can explain. I know what I need to do and when I need to do it by. I understand that something is messy. But it’d my room and my life, so let me do it. Let me do things on my own. My mom won’t be there to remind me to do things when I go to college or live on my own, so I want her to stop telling me to do my chores. I am an adult and I know what needs to be done, so she doesn’t have to tell me–at least, for the most part.

If she didn’t keep reminding me to clean my desk, it would have been done months ago. And now that it’s clean, it’s not clean enough. If I took a before and after picture, you’d be shocked at the transformation. I only left an insert packet for my yearbook out because I hadn’t gone to put it in yet (something I was planning on doing later today) and lanyards I made at work last summer because I wasn’t sure which few to keep and put on my keys and which to throw away (something I also planned on doing later today, with input from my little sister. Now, who knows when I’ll do it?

And then she took me to Target a little bit ago because I wanted a CD. They didn’t have it so I picked a plain white v-neck, which I needed as well. Things were fine because I wasn’t so annoyed or angry. Until she asked if I needed new deodorant. I said yes, to which she replied “I just bought you some.” She did buy some for me a while ago, but with choir and working in a hot gym and standing in the sun at lunch and during water play, I was running out. I still have a fair enough amount left, but I was not sure when I’d be back at the store. When I tried explaining to her why I needed more she got mad and rolled her eyes, which made me raise my voice a little. She got mad at that so I walked away before I could cry.

I don’t know why I cry so easily. The littlest things can cause me to burst into tears. So I picked my shirt out of the cart and went to buy it. Then I sat in the car until she and my sister were finished. I proceeded to ignore her (not that she spoke to me) and listened to music. When we got home, I took my bag and two of hers, put them in the kitchen and put mine in my room. I closed the door–note, I did not slam it. I made sure of that. But she came and yelled at me for being in a piss-y mood and not cleaning my desk all the way. Then I got my computer and forgot my make-up bag in the other room so she came back and yelled at me again to go get it. I was crying by this point and she asked–well, yelled–what was wrong. So I screamed that I didn’t know.

And now I am here.

Honestly, I don’t know why I get so upset. I do not understand why I am crying so hard. I think that maybe fighting a self-diagnosed depression on my own for eight years has just become too much. I think I’ve finally cracked. I always thought I’d cracked already, but gotten past it–with a lot of effort, of course. But something feels different about this time. Usually, all I want is to stop crying, but now I don’t. I feel like I could keep crying forever. When I have these crying sprees, the tears keep coming because my thoughts wander to the past or other things that are upsetting me. This time, I just keep crying. It’s not even that big of a deal, but I can’t stop.

I feel so pathetic, sitting my closet like this. I can’t think of a worse word. Just utterly pathetic. And I wonder why I am even still living. How do I get past all this if I blow up over something so trivial.

Well, my mom just found me in the closet ad then she called me a five year-old. She asked me what was wrong. I don’t know. If I knew why I was so upset, don’t you think I’d try and fix it? She didn’t notice anything was amiss the last eight years of my life, and she picks now. She blamed every failed friendship on me, she points out my every flaw, she tells me “we all” need to lose ten pounds and doesn’t notice when I do. I haven’t eaten all day and she says nothing about it. Of course, I am upset, but it seems like she is always the problem.

Maybe she’s the root of every problem. What if she’s the reason I hate myself so much. I just don’t feel good enough for her. Actually, it’s not a feeling at all. I know I’m not good enough for her because she can’t stop telling me how perfect she was as a teenager and how unlike her I am.

I need to get out of here before I do something stupid. Or something I could regret. Or something really, really dangerous.

September 15th can’t come fast enough.

Pray for me. -A

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