When I talk to people I make it seem as though I'm a happy person. Like my thoughts don't go any further than what they really are. So people don't worry about me. But that, like everything else about myself, is fake. My thoughts wander. My thoughts ramble. My thoughts speak and whisper to me. And they go much, much deeper. I'm hiding it from everyone else. But it's screaming to be let out.
I had a dream. A dream that makes me question myself. The me in that dream was so much more different than me. She was happy through and through. Truly happy. And she was truly happy becuase she showed her true unhappy self. Becuase she was brave enough to let others see her real self, even though she was so uncomfortable. And I've been thinking about this dream more and more. It's really snapped a lot into perspective.
Another thing is that I've really been expressing myself more. I've been talking more, setting my foot down more and am even the leader of the very few people I hang out with. Isn't that something? Shy timid little me is actually setting the lines down now. It makes me want to curse. Am I angry with myself? I don't know. I just feel that something inside of me is about to be let loose. Something is going to erupt soon. Something is going to happen. And it won't be pretty.
I've been putting on makeup. Light, but noticeable. Is this some sort of joke? Who the hell am I? What the hell do I really want? I don't even know. But I feel that there is something missing. Something important. I'm just blind.
Life is laughable. What point is there? What purpose? The inner voice is telling me "To make others happy"
Bull. What good is making others happy when it hurt me? When it cuts so deep into my thoughts, my mind? My soul? "If you can make others happy then you, in turn, will be happy."
Then why aren't others making me happy? Why aren't I getting what I deserve? Why can't I have a friend to listen to me rant and rant and complain?
I feel so selfish. That little inner voice says, "If you just try that little bit harder for life and others, then your reward will soon come." But I'm so tired of listening to others. Of cleaning up thier thoughts and feelings. I don't want to anymore. I have a life too! I'm trying to soak up my own emotions that are spilling over the bottle I keep them in with my sponges. You know, these sponges are masking not only those spilling emotions. They're killing my memory. "What were we talking about yesterday? Oh yeah... Now I remember... I didn't like that." THAT'S why my memories are missing. I'm deleting the bad parts. But I'm deleting everything else too. I don't want my memories gone! I'm so scared. What am I supposed to do?
...What good is a journal if it can't talk back?
Unfound_Logic Community Member 
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