|
If I knew anything at all.
I don't believe in regrets. I don't believe in take backs, or even wanting them. There is always some good in whats left. It's different good. But none the less it's good. Weather you wanted it or not you got it. I believe in dealing with what you have, what others have given you and what you have given yourself. But now I find myself regretting everything. I regret that I didn't persue accademics hard enough in middle school. If I had tried REALLY tried I would have strait A's I might even be graduating early. I used to want to go to Harvard or Yale. A dream nobody knows about. I was a smart little kid and I knew it. I wonder what would have happend. What could have happend, if only every adult in my life werent more worried about not giving me false hope than they were about where mediocer dreams would lead someone like me. Living on the beach with a store. Beatiful dream. It is mine too. It was one of the many for a long time. I've seen myself pass up opertunities and I've seen myself too pissed at EVERYONE for saying I couldn't do things that I just gave up. At least if they were just against me I could cuss them out and prove them wrong but they just tried to talk me down. Like "try something smaller" or "you're too young for that wait till you're older" when really I wanted to do it then to have done it that young. They watched me build towering dreams out of toy blocks and watched me start to try to climb them and rather than helping this tower with support they spent all thier time and effort covering the group under it in pillows. To this day my mom still does that. Does she realise that makes no sense? The outsiders was written by a SIXTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL. She was ******** sixteen. I'm ******** sixteen. I'm tired of being treated like the incompitant twit I never was. My mom DECIDED for me, going into 3rd grade that I just couldn't handle how hard third grade would be WITH dance class and gymnastics. maybe I couldn't have. Or maybe I could have. Going into sixth grade my mom and my teachers decided I couldnt hack it in normal middle school. So they sent me to a private school AGAINST MY WILL. It cost more to go there than it did for my brothers college tuition. great for them. that wasn't something I wanted. I wanted to go to normal school and prove to MYSELF that I could do it. But I went to a school where I honed my skills at lieing, cheating, being full of s**t, slacking off, hiding myself, being anti-social, and had my first suicidal thoughts. I spent all of seventh grade being shunned by people who had told me they were my friends. in sixth grade all up in the middle of the begining of this bullshit my dad had six ******** bi-pass. my english teach was a nocious b***h. One good thing came out of that whole ordeal. I met my best friend. if you ask me thats an obseen amount of money for my parents to pay for me to make a friend. I don't know what I'm doing and I don't know where I am going and I have made it so that I now have to make up my mind on all of that really soon. I'm not happy. I'm not sure if I was ever happy or if I will ever be happy. My mind is more confusing itself than anything else it's ever tried to figure out. I don't understand myself. I don't make sense. I hate everyone. I resent everyone. I can't believe how far I let myself fall. I am actually on depression medication RIGHT NOW (that should be shocking) this is just not good. I'm tired of this. I'm done every time I hve a break down my parents make new soultions that are never solutions they are just more things for me to lie about. GOD ******** DAMNIT I am so over this s**t. Why do they do this to me. I'm sure they never knew but wtf. There was a point in time where I could have been anything some point in elementary school that died. and I whole heartedly believe that I was not the one who killed it. I wish I was autistic, the kind that didn't understand that they were any differnt. The ones that go around huging people and high-fiveing people. They love life. They don't know any different, AND they do sometimes end up finding love. They have better chance than me. I don't even make sense to my self how could I ever make sense to someone else. I feel like I was meant for something great. And I feel like I missed it. Elvis has left the building. There are only two ways to truely end a story one is a lie the other is not. Happily ever after, asumeing they relived those moments for all eternity and nobody ever died. or eventually things went down hill and everyone died. Lots of bloody gory death. This officially makes no sense. These analogies have wholes in them and my spelling sucks worse than ever. ******** man I hate my life. I was excesively happy just 4 hours ago it was scary. I was doing good. everything was fairy's and sugarplums and now I just kinda want to take a long walk off a short peer wearing cement shoes. whatever. stare crying redface smile biggrin scream gonk blaugh 3nodding xd xp emo heart sweatdrop stressed eek surprised sad wink whee razz mad lol cool confused exclaim rolleyes twisted evil cry question idea arrow neutral mrgreen ninja 4laugh dramallama pirate talk2hand burning_eyes cheese_whine dramallama wahmbulance
|
