#3

People don't understand me. They don't understand the way that I act. They don't get how I can listen until my ears hurt and then listen some more. They don't get how I seem to always have a smile on my face.

They don't get my interests or my knowledge.  "Oh you're smart you know everything right?" Or "look at you with your near-perfect GPA, don't you think your something special." Well excuse me for taking pride in being an excellent student. Yes I know it doesn't get me any more of a job than the next guy, but I'd rather not be scraping by in my classes.

But the most important thing that a lot of people just fail to understand is that I do, in fact, need people to talk to every once and a while. Shocking, I know. There are some times where things just become too much and I really need someone to lend an ear and provide some outside perspective. The problem is, it seems like those I could count on the most either didn't listen, or only half payed attention.

I'm not saying I'm not thankful for those that have listened. They mean more to me than I think they know. But that feeling of abandonment and loneliness from those that have not is still there regardless. It hurts. It's frustrating to say the least.

Then my frustration turns back on myself, as if I've done something wrong to cause those people not to listen. I know it isn't right to think like that but for me it just happens. I resent that about myself. All it ends up turning into is a vicious cycle from which I am unable to get out of.

I wish I was strong enough to break out.

#2

I used to love my roller coaster so large and shiny and made of steel. As a kid I would ride it for fun. That feeling of letting go and being slightly out of control were appealing to me.

Gradually over time though I grew up, and began to resent my roller coaster and what it represented. It had become run down and I needed to repair it, but I didn't want to spend the time or effort to do so. I would sometimes be forced to ride it, even though I wanted nothing more than to just leave it there to rot in some roller coaster hell.

I thought I had left it for good somewhere in the desolate back woods of Berks county. As it turns out someone decided my roller coaster needed to be here with me looming over my shoulder every single solitary day. I don't know who it was and I quite frankly don't care. But I hate that person. I didn't want it here. I never asked for it to be here so why the hell is it here?

I wish I had enough power to crush the roller coaster, but I don't. Some days I wish it would finally fly off the tracks and never run again. But yet it continues to press on like some sick and twisted energizer bunny.

All I want is to be off this roller coaster ride.

#1

Is this what it's come to? Me sitting here writing something that no one will ever see, in near tears from sheer stress and frustration?

Why me? What did I do to deserve to get shot down and blown up every single time something good happens? It's like life says to me "oh something good happened to you eh? Well we can't have that..." Is it my general lack of faith? Is it because I'm a bad person and have done something wrong? Is it just because I'm too nice, too polite, or too sweet?

I don't believe anyone anymore. I'm constantly worrying about something. I never get a good nights sleep. I live in constant frustration with who I am, who I'm becoming and who I'm going to be. I'm chronically depressed. My passion is gone. My motor vanished somewhere along the way.

I have no idea why I keep picking myself up if I'm only going to fall back down again. I might as well just crawl anywhere. Less far you are off the bottom the lesser the fall right?

They say get help, but I don't even want to look for it. Life has always taught me to take charge of my own life.  People will always let you down in the end. You can't trust anyone. People always ask what I want to do in life and I always answer the same way; "I don't know." All I really want to say is "things I know will make me happy" but if nothing genuinely makes me happy what's the point?

And yet everyday I somehow place all of this in a little bottle with a cork that will hold everything in for at least a time. I put on a face every single morning because that's who I'm expected to be. I'm the one that's different. The one that doesn't have problems. The one that has the infectious smile. The one who keeps his integrity. The one who will listen even when no one else will.

I just wish someone could take care of my bottle.