First real post on Xanga. It was the reason I wanted to blog again…to VENT!
never thought I’d use this thing again, but here goes. I need to vent. Like, REALLY need to vent. Didn’t think I’d ever need to either, but I’m starting to freak out. omg. I’m using xanga. LOSER.
WHAT THE FRUIT dude?! WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM? I don’t even understand why you’re doing this anymore. you mope. and mope. and mope some more. please just.. stop. stop taking things out on me. stop making me feel so guilty for everything I can accomplish. I can’t celebrate knowing you’ll be devastated in the back of my mind. I think about you all the time, and to see your face, so fake and forced smiles like that? what the hell do you want me to do? I tried to forfeit my happiness, I tried to pass it on to you. But they didn’t let me, so what am I supposed to do? I feel pressured, cause whatever I say to you, it doesn’t work. You can’t look past the retarded paint, plastic, and wood chunks, and all you see is win or lose.
can you stop please? I didn’t think I would ever become annoyed, but it’s getting to me. You won’t smile around me when I have something to celebrate for. You can’t be happy for me. You just constantly think about the troubles you yourself are going through.. and then what? You’re hurting me. And I hate how I’m so effing scared to say anything. You mean the world to me and I don’t want to scare you away or say the wrong thing. But my cheering you up becomes.. inconsiderate and unthoughtful. All I ever think about is you. So maybe I’m horrible at wondering how you feel. I always say the wrong things…and I get in your face too often to count. So I’m sorry for that.
But that’s cause I love you. And I want to make sure you’re happy all the time. How can I do that if you won’t let me? Why can’t you be happy with me? Why does my success keep you from seeing how hard I try to make sure you smile? Why do you hide yourself from me?
Why can’t you love me as much as I love you?
All these questions are killing my mind. I can’t concentrate. I can’t focus. I can’t do my stupid history essay. It’s bugging me.. that you need a block of metal to prove your worth. I believe you are the world, you are my hero. And yet you need your name in solid print for it to be real. You won’t listen to me when I tell you you are MY number one.
and you listen to her. cause she is not the one with the happiness you yearn. you praise her for labeling you as her number one. it means a lot to you. but what about me? I tell you all the time, but it holds no place in your heart. I want to be the one that understands. I go through pain every time so that I can understand. And she gets the credit. For never once trying what you felt everyday. Every sweaty, throbbing day. She simply claims she understands the morales we hold dear, and you love her for that.
So love her.
One question though. Would it be better if i quit? Nothing changes. I will be unhappy, but your life goes on. So live it.
okay. I’m done. I feel better, but at the same time, even worse.
