Sorta Stuck

You know, in a weird way, school sort of makes everything bearable. It takes time off things. It gives you other stuff to worry about. It requires you to move around. It distracts you from the awful thoughts that bother you at night. It gives you reasons to go out of the house and forget. You’ve got friends to gossip with and random people to bitch. Because how else can awful thoughts creep inside your mind than being alone at home with nothing to do?

School sort of keeps you going.

Lately, I haven’t been feeling great. I don’t really want to give specific details but there’s pain there. I guess it all started from talking about it to a friend. I realized, it’s been a while since it was brought up (I’ve been trying to avoid the topic despite of how much I wanted to talk about it) and I never really thought about how much heavier it got. Well it was sort of my fault because brought it up myself and it kind of triggered stuff and now I don’t feel too good.

I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing anymore. The original plan was to ignore and focus on other stuff until everything cools down. Well, I’m running out of time and I don’t think that decision has made any difference at all.

I’m scared that this whole thing is gonna be this awful memory one day that’s gonna to come back to me every once in a while and it’s gonna make me feel really sad and there will be nothing to do because I didn’t face it when I had the chance.

My friend tells me that I am going to regret this for the rest of my life if I don’t open up but I’m scared. I’m scared of things getting worse than it already is. I’m scared of standing there frozen and not being able to say anything. I’m scared of hearing the truth. And there’s also a little bit of pride there from my part that holds back my decision to confront things. That’s why I never did anything.

I don’t know how long this is going to last but I guess I’m just gonna let the universe decide for me. I mean, if it could just find a way for that thing to approach me then let me face it, I will not run away. I promise that. But if it decides to just move on, bury this deep into my memory and give me other shit to deal with, so be it.

Call me a coward (whatever because I’ve known that for a while now) or a whiny little bitch but this is me so fuck all of you. I mean why would I want to approach the things that I know hurt me?

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