Originally Posted by HeatherB
(Post 361000)
Oh my fucking god. You guys, I'm ranting. /woot
...okay. I walk out of Morning Meeting. I want to get to class. I'm in a hurry because I don't want to sit next to *creeper* boys, I want to be with my friends. Teacher A (henceforth referred to as 'A') comes up with attendance sheet in hand, asks me if I'll take it to the office. I decline because I'm in a hurry...as I mentioned before. Also, it's not for my advisory, and kids are all around us. A should have no trouble getting other students to take it. I set off for class when I am stopped by Teacher B (henceforth referred to as 'B'). B has apparently witnessed the at least ending of what has just occurred, meaning my declination, and is mad at me. Whoop-dee-doo. I try to defend myself, but B's having none of it, even though now I really WILL be late for class and I hope to god the last spot's not near a creeper boy. He started lecturing me and at one point says, "I know you can do better. This isn't the first time something like this has happened and you've walked away. Do you know what I'm talking about?" My reaction to that on the outside is *small, pitiful nod.* My reaction on the inside: "Dafuqqqqqqq?????" Because, um, actually, it's just a small thing and he doesn't have to make such a big deal of it, saying it was rude of me and I'm "so kind NORMALLY" blah blah shit. And it IS the first time he's taken me aside like this, acting all bitchy because I wouldn't do a small favor for someone. I was trying to tell him that I needed to get to class and that was why, but he misunderstood and said "No. Right now you're here talking with me." And internally I was all "facepalm" but on the outside I was just: ....uh-huh. Yep. Whatever you say. And so this goes on for far too long and finally, FINALLY, after several escape attempts because I really effing need to get to class, he lets me go with a "now, I would like you to keep this exchange confidential--between you and me" and a raise of the eyebrows. As if that's supposed to mean something, me keeping a motherfucking secret for him. Whatever. So I don't actually agree to anything, but I give him the impression like "yeah, uh-huh, yep, whatever you say" which was basically my entire generic response to the conversation. Then I get to class and start my internal fuming. Why me? Why today? Why the fuck can't he just let me get to class? Why was he making such a big motherfucking deal out of it? What's wrong with him today? And most importantly, WHAT. THE. FUCK. Because that was just... no. That should not have happened. He's making a mountain out of a molehill and then backing himself up by saying "this has happened before." Before? BEFORE? Are you fucking kidding me? Don't you think I'd remember if he'd taken me aside and shaken his metaphorical fist in my face and basically lectured me on the fucking importance of BEING KIND? Yeah, I think I'd remember that. But noooo, nothing comes to mind when I do a brain search--"B taking me aside to lecture, bringing up several disgustingly inaccurate points and ultimately making me moody for the rest of the day, as well as late for class." Because that's what happened. And it shouldn't make me so mad. But it does. I've known for the past couple of days now, been realizing it actually, that I am completely and totally emotionally unstable. I can't cope with fucking ANYTHING--be it a complaint from a parent, just thrown around as a side remark but it bounces around in my head all day, begging attention and thought and oh no, what if it really is true? What if I'm not capable of taking initiative at all?, or be it a little scoff from a popular girl, "that's stupid," it shouldn't make me want to cry, should it? I don't ever give fucks for popular people--why should I start now? So basically, yeah, my emotions are a mess. And so there and then at school in the middle of class, I decide something: I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to shed tears over something as fucking trivial as false accusations and lectures that only make me late for class. I'm just fucking NOT. And I don't. And I haven't yet today. And I don't think I ever will, because I'm not even crying while writing this, and that is a motherfucking huge accomplishment for someone as fragile as I am when it comes to feelings. I can pretend all I want, but really I'm a train barreling down a track at breakneck speed towards another train, emotions, coming at an equally ferocious rate, and it's not the collision itself--it's the second before, when I can see the train coming, closer, closer, I know it's going to hit, closer, and the worst part is--I can't do anything about it. I'm NOT IN CONTROL. And I wasn't in control for the past couple of days. My mom would make an offhand remark, I would curse her out so bad she'd ground me till my dying day under my breath and look out the window determinedly but still the tears would come, hot and prickling over my eyelids, and I've never felt so pathetic as I have in the last few days, when I'm a ball of yarn and something's unraveling me but I'm all knots inside so the unraveling, instead of lifting burdens and being relaxing, is loosening the outside and tightening the inside and I'm afraid because I'm going to break at any second. Today, for once, I managed to get a hand on the brake of my train. I slowed the collision for one more second. For just one day, I was in control.
But tomorrow. Tomorrow it's not going to be like that. Tomorrow, I'm afraid, I'm so afraid, because tomorrow is the train wreck. I'm going to crash and I want to die and I want to kill myself before the crash because at least I would be in control for ONE MORE SECOND but I can't kill myself because that's stupid, selfish, bigoted, and who says I'm not deserving of pain? I'm deserving of whatever's coming tomorrow. I'm deserving of the pain that it's going to bring me. I'm going to go through my crash and come out crippled and I am not going to fight back. I wish I could. But the only way I can think of fighting is killing myself, because then I won't feel anything at all, I'd truly win, would I not? And yet, and yet. I can't kill myself. Firstly I have nothing to do it with. Secondly I could never follow through (bitchy coward I am). Thirdly I must think of the others, not so selfishly of myself, of the others who need me and who look up to me--not that anyone does, but I'd like to THINK that someone does, it's going to keep me going, it's keeping me going. I am not happy. I am not sad. I feel nothing but angry and that pains me. I want to laugh and cry and hope again and I don't know how and most of all I want HELP. I'm tired of my voice being ignored and drowning in my unseen and unheard crashing emotions. I'm so tired of everything and I really do want to die sometimes, I swear it. But I've already listed why that mustn't happen, yesterday night I was listing people I love so that I could feel something else that wasn't so dreary and moody and angry and crashing and ferocious: gratitude. I am so, so lucky, and I won't ever forget that. But right now I need more than luck. I need help. I don't want to hear how amazing and strong I am--I don't care about that. I want to hear others' stories: I want to help. Because helping others helps me, and that rings true even this morning with the episode of A and B, and I didn't help so I wasn't helped and I got real bitchy but I made this post and this is my plea for help: tell me what's wrong. I want to not destroy and de-story, de-structure, demise. I want to build and fix and learn and HELP. I think it's one of the only ways I can fix myself, too.
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