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My Diary (if You Really Care to Know)
Synopsis Of My Life
I guess a good way to start of one of these is by telling you, my dear reader, a bit more about myself and
my life before this time. There isn’t really much to tell. I haven’t had anything dramatic happen to me. I haven’t lost anyone dear to me, I haven’t gone through any major abuse, and my life is pretty amazing in comparison to what many others have to go through on a day to day basis. Knock on wood. I don’t want to jinx myself or anything, but that is the truth…
When I was younger I was (and still am) the kid that my parents didn’t have to worry about. Either that or I just got a bit overlooked, because they certainly do worry about my grades, but I mean common sense. My sister was the exact opposite. Most of the time growing up, my parents were very consumed with the self-destructive things that my sister was doing, that they didn’t really pay much attention to what was going on with me. I don’t blame them. They didn’t really have to worry about me; my sister needed them more than I did, even though I was seven and a half years younger than her.
I used to not be aware of myself either. When my sister called me a fattie, or something else equally as hurtful, I felt it but I was never really aware that I felt it. I kind of idolized her, so it cut really deep to hear those things. I guess deep inside I really wanted her attention. Maybe it was because of the way she had my parent’s attention or something, I don’t know. My dad always gave me attention though, so I think I was more attached to him then I was to anyone else when I was growing up. I believed everything he said, just like I believed everything my sister said.
I don’t really know what happened to change that idolization. I used to act so thoughtless about things when I was younger. I toyed with peoples emotions in my hands, like they were nothing but a worthless little ragdoll. I would insult people, I would put them down, but it was only after they got close to me. Like I felt they would betray me or something if I ever let them in. The thing is, I don’t know if I was even deep enough to tell people how I was feeling, mostly because I myself didn’t know what I was feeling. That was before I knew music.
Music in a way, kind of saved me. I know how clichéd that sounds, but it is the truth. I had heard a lot of music that I liked beforehand, hell I knew Beatles songs like that back of my hand, and I could recite every line on the ‘Walk On’ cd by U2, but I had never really grasped the true feeling of the songs. The words sounded good, as did the rhythms behind them, but I had no real concept of the depth of them. Then along came these three boys in my fourth grade class. I did not like the boys, but they were crazy about this band named Green Day, and so I happened upon a few cds in my sister’s old collection one day, and decided to give them a listen.
All I can say is, without Green Day, I would have shit for taste in music. Seriously, before I heard them, I was listening to stupid stuff like the cheetah girls, Hilary Duff, and Aly and Aj…….The last one mentioned is OK, but I will never say anything more about it. Suffice it to say, Green Day was my gateway drug. I could relate to their music, I listened to the words, and I felt the beat of the songs, and it was amazing because I finally felt like there was something out there for me specifically. It made me feel cared for. So Green Day started me listening to the Clash, the Who, MCR, and a ton of others, all of which led into more and more music.
So after that I started paying more attention to people. I fully realized how mean I had been to many people, and how guilty I was. I was constantly telling myself that, and I became more and more aware of what others felt, and I made sure I didn’t say things to hurt them. Of course, all this time there was still the underlying factor that I never really loved myself much to begin with. So I got depressed, and by the end of sixth grade, when I was about twelve, I wanted to kill myself.
I eventually made two attempts over the summer to do so, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t participate in physical self-harm either, so I just stuck with all the emotional put downs. The people I knew had stopped calling me names a while ago, and my sister had stopped around sixth grade, but I kept going. The more and more aware I was of myself the more I kept putting myself down. I’m fat, nobody cares about me, I’m ugly, I’m stupid, I’m not good at anything. Just repeating every day, and I hid it very well from the outside world. I still do, but it’s getting better. You can tell when I am depressed, for instance, when my room becomes filthy, or when my grades are pitiful. I don’t like to physically show it.
But in seventh grade a lot changed. For one, my mom moved to another state for her new job. Actually, this happened in sixth grade, sorry. I cried every night that she was gone for a while. I think that was the only time I have really let sadness get me so bad that I have to show it. It was kind of pitiful. My sister and my dad didn’t know what to do with me. The fact that she absolutely hated her new job, and we couldn’t sell our house didn’t help either. Then there was my sister and all of her stuff that was going on as well. I called my mom every day and let her vent to me about how much she missed us and how much she hated her job, and how sad she was, everything, and I didn’t mind in the slightest that the only way the conversation was turned on to me was if my grades were bad (which they usually were) or if I started talking about me, which was rare. I liked it that she could trust me with such things, it made me feel like I was helping her. During that time there were a lot of nights were I just broke down and cried and cried and cried. I didn’t want to tell anyone because I felt like I would be burdening them with my issues.
Anyway, so in seventh grade I met my first real best friend. Let’s say his name is……Light. Anyway, I met him in academy, which was an afterschool thing that teachers put together so that the students that had a ton of missing work such as myself, had to go to it every day after school until they got caught up. He commented on a hoodie I was wearing, and it just sort of kick started after that. So he confided in me a lot. We had some common interests, like Fullmetal Alchemist, Linkin Park, and anything that was sort of dark. Not Satanists or anything, but we liked dark colors, deep dark stories, and all that stuff. More so than that, we have similar souls. I got so close to him that I could tell what he was going to say before he would say it, because I was most likely thinking the same thing.
I also met a guy in seventh grade. I became his best friend, but to me he was a lot more. I think I was in love with him, mostly because I still feel the same way for him now, though I am slowly getting over it. He certainly wasn’t anything to look at. He was kind of awkward, and not a lot of girls (or guys for that matter) would really think of him in a more than a friend way. But I loved his personality. He made me laugh all the time. I could talk to him, and I felt like nothing else mattered, even though I thought he could never like me that way back. The bugger is, he did. After I found out about that, I didn’t know what to think. I knew I liked him, but I told myself that I would undoubtedly make him miserable, and I didn’t want that. I couldn’t see why anyone would like me that way. I am nothing to look at, I am not really good at anything, there is nothing remotely special about me, and I thought these things would surely get in the way. So I sat by and pretended that I didn’t know that he liked me, and he got over it. He kept asking me for advice about girls, and going out and everything, and it hurt like hell to watch, but I was happy for him, if not for me. I just didn’t want to hurt him.
So over the summer was pretty good. I stayed with my mom during that time,and I continued talking to both Light and…..shall we call him…..Bob the entire time. All was well until Light got into his first relationship, online, with a girl he met on a game. Anyway, long story short, she broke up with him in a rather mean way, and his depression started getting to him a lot. I stayed up talking to him for nights and days at a time, talking him out of suicide. I honestly think it was the worst time I have ever experienced in my life. I mean, the person I was closest to was talking about killing themselves, and saying things like Nobody cares, and stuff like that. It made me feel really bad. I cried a lot during that time too, because I was so scared that one day I would try to call him, and he wouldn’t pick up ever again. It was frightening. I also felt like I didn’t matter to him, but I am over that now. We have drifted slightly, and he doesn’t confide in me much anymore, but I know that it is because he doesn’t want to hurt me.
Nothing really special happened in eight grade…..Except I met my best friend, whom shall be known as Fly. Fly was a new student who came in towards the end of the year, and whom I helped a lot. She sort of just became attached to me, and she told me everything about herself. She was only going to stay until the end of the school year, when she was moving out to live with her dad and her stepmom in another state. I didn’t truly realize how much Fly meant to me until after I hadn’t seen her in months, and then I realized that she is the only person outside of my close relatives, who asks me how I feel. I think it’s because Fly has been in situations where she has had to deal with being overlooked, so she knows how it is. She is like my sister…although I always count my friends as my family. To me family= friends, and friends=family, if they are really close to me.
This year…..my mom got another job in a different state, and my parents are looking for a house to rent there, so that we can actually live together for the first time in almost four years, my dad retired, I became a lot closer to my two other best friend/sisters Hitlerfish and Cloudia (don’t ask, inside jokes and such…),and I have sadly become distant from Light, though I think that is because we have only one class together, and he hangs out with different people than I do at lunch and stuff. Also, he is never on skype anymore, and that is how we used to communicate with each other. But we are still close friends, so everything is good. I have distanced myself from Bob, and we don’t really talk anymore, just because we have drifted apart. I have let us drift apart, I don’t want to feel pain anymore, not for loving him.
So yeah…..I seriously congratulate you if you have made it through this 2,113 and counting word long synopsis of my life. I’m sorry if I have bored you to death, but it was your choice to read it
my life before this time. There isn’t really much to tell. I haven’t had anything dramatic happen to me. I haven’t lost anyone dear to me, I haven’t gone through any major abuse, and my life is pretty amazing in comparison to what many others have to go through on a day to day basis. Knock on wood. I don’t want to jinx myself or anything, but that is the truth…
When I was younger I was (and still am) the kid that my parents didn’t have to worry about. Either that or I just got a bit overlooked, because they certainly do worry about my grades, but I mean common sense. My sister was the exact opposite. Most of the time growing up, my parents were very consumed with the self-destructive things that my sister was doing, that they didn’t really pay much attention to what was going on with me. I don’t blame them. They didn’t really have to worry about me; my sister needed them more than I did, even though I was seven and a half years younger than her.
I used to not be aware of myself either. When my sister called me a fattie, or something else equally as hurtful, I felt it but I was never really aware that I felt it. I kind of idolized her, so it cut really deep to hear those things. I guess deep inside I really wanted her attention. Maybe it was because of the way she had my parent’s attention or something, I don’t know. My dad always gave me attention though, so I think I was more attached to him then I was to anyone else when I was growing up. I believed everything he said, just like I believed everything my sister said.
I don’t really know what happened to change that idolization. I used to act so thoughtless about things when I was younger. I toyed with peoples emotions in my hands, like they were nothing but a worthless little ragdoll. I would insult people, I would put them down, but it was only after they got close to me. Like I felt they would betray me or something if I ever let them in. The thing is, I don’t know if I was even deep enough to tell people how I was feeling, mostly because I myself didn’t know what I was feeling. That was before I knew music.
Music in a way, kind of saved me. I know how clichéd that sounds, but it is the truth. I had heard a lot of music that I liked beforehand, hell I knew Beatles songs like that back of my hand, and I could recite every line on the ‘Walk On’ cd by U2, but I had never really grasped the true feeling of the songs. The words sounded good, as did the rhythms behind them, but I had no real concept of the depth of them. Then along came these three boys in my fourth grade class. I did not like the boys, but they were crazy about this band named Green Day, and so I happened upon a few cds in my sister’s old collection one day, and decided to give them a listen.
All I can say is, without Green Day, I would have shit for taste in music. Seriously, before I heard them, I was listening to stupid stuff like the cheetah girls, Hilary Duff, and Aly and Aj…….The last one mentioned is OK, but I will never say anything more about it. Suffice it to say, Green Day was my gateway drug. I could relate to their music, I listened to the words, and I felt the beat of the songs, and it was amazing because I finally felt like there was something out there for me specifically. It made me feel cared for. So Green Day started me listening to the Clash, the Who, MCR, and a ton of others, all of which led into more and more music.
So after that I started paying more attention to people. I fully realized how mean I had been to many people, and how guilty I was. I was constantly telling myself that, and I became more and more aware of what others felt, and I made sure I didn’t say things to hurt them. Of course, all this time there was still the underlying factor that I never really loved myself much to begin with. So I got depressed, and by the end of sixth grade, when I was about twelve, I wanted to kill myself.
I eventually made two attempts over the summer to do so, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t participate in physical self-harm either, so I just stuck with all the emotional put downs. The people I knew had stopped calling me names a while ago, and my sister had stopped around sixth grade, but I kept going. The more and more aware I was of myself the more I kept putting myself down. I’m fat, nobody cares about me, I’m ugly, I’m stupid, I’m not good at anything. Just repeating every day, and I hid it very well from the outside world. I still do, but it’s getting better. You can tell when I am depressed, for instance, when my room becomes filthy, or when my grades are pitiful. I don’t like to physically show it.
But in seventh grade a lot changed. For one, my mom moved to another state for her new job. Actually, this happened in sixth grade, sorry. I cried every night that she was gone for a while. I think that was the only time I have really let sadness get me so bad that I have to show it. It was kind of pitiful. My sister and my dad didn’t know what to do with me. The fact that she absolutely hated her new job, and we couldn’t sell our house didn’t help either. Then there was my sister and all of her stuff that was going on as well. I called my mom every day and let her vent to me about how much she missed us and how much she hated her job, and how sad she was, everything, and I didn’t mind in the slightest that the only way the conversation was turned on to me was if my grades were bad (which they usually were) or if I started talking about me, which was rare. I liked it that she could trust me with such things, it made me feel like I was helping her. During that time there were a lot of nights were I just broke down and cried and cried and cried. I didn’t want to tell anyone because I felt like I would be burdening them with my issues.
Anyway, so in seventh grade I met my first real best friend. Let’s say his name is……Light. Anyway, I met him in academy, which was an afterschool thing that teachers put together so that the students that had a ton of missing work such as myself, had to go to it every day after school until they got caught up. He commented on a hoodie I was wearing, and it just sort of kick started after that. So he confided in me a lot. We had some common interests, like Fullmetal Alchemist, Linkin Park, and anything that was sort of dark. Not Satanists or anything, but we liked dark colors, deep dark stories, and all that stuff. More so than that, we have similar souls. I got so close to him that I could tell what he was going to say before he would say it, because I was most likely thinking the same thing.
I also met a guy in seventh grade. I became his best friend, but to me he was a lot more. I think I was in love with him, mostly because I still feel the same way for him now, though I am slowly getting over it. He certainly wasn’t anything to look at. He was kind of awkward, and not a lot of girls (or guys for that matter) would really think of him in a more than a friend way. But I loved his personality. He made me laugh all the time. I could talk to him, and I felt like nothing else mattered, even though I thought he could never like me that way back. The bugger is, he did. After I found out about that, I didn’t know what to think. I knew I liked him, but I told myself that I would undoubtedly make him miserable, and I didn’t want that. I couldn’t see why anyone would like me that way. I am nothing to look at, I am not really good at anything, there is nothing remotely special about me, and I thought these things would surely get in the way. So I sat by and pretended that I didn’t know that he liked me, and he got over it. He kept asking me for advice about girls, and going out and everything, and it hurt like hell to watch, but I was happy for him, if not for me. I just didn’t want to hurt him.
So over the summer was pretty good. I stayed with my mom during that time,and I continued talking to both Light and…..shall we call him…..Bob the entire time. All was well until Light got into his first relationship, online, with a girl he met on a game. Anyway, long story short, she broke up with him in a rather mean way, and his depression started getting to him a lot. I stayed up talking to him for nights and days at a time, talking him out of suicide. I honestly think it was the worst time I have ever experienced in my life. I mean, the person I was closest to was talking about killing themselves, and saying things like Nobody cares, and stuff like that. It made me feel really bad. I cried a lot during that time too, because I was so scared that one day I would try to call him, and he wouldn’t pick up ever again. It was frightening. I also felt like I didn’t matter to him, but I am over that now. We have drifted slightly, and he doesn’t confide in me much anymore, but I know that it is because he doesn’t want to hurt me.
Nothing really special happened in eight grade…..Except I met my best friend, whom shall be known as Fly. Fly was a new student who came in towards the end of the year, and whom I helped a lot. She sort of just became attached to me, and she told me everything about herself. She was only going to stay until the end of the school year, when she was moving out to live with her dad and her stepmom in another state. I didn’t truly realize how much Fly meant to me until after I hadn’t seen her in months, and then I realized that she is the only person outside of my close relatives, who asks me how I feel. I think it’s because Fly has been in situations where she has had to deal with being overlooked, so she knows how it is. She is like my sister…although I always count my friends as my family. To me family= friends, and friends=family, if they are really close to me.
This year…..my mom got another job in a different state, and my parents are looking for a house to rent there, so that we can actually live together for the first time in almost four years, my dad retired, I became a lot closer to my two other best friend/sisters Hitlerfish and Cloudia (don’t ask, inside jokes and such…),and I have sadly become distant from Light, though I think that is because we have only one class together, and he hangs out with different people than I do at lunch and stuff. Also, he is never on skype anymore, and that is how we used to communicate with each other. But we are still close friends, so everything is good. I have distanced myself from Bob, and we don’t really talk anymore, just because we have drifted apart. I have let us drift apart, I don’t want to feel pain anymore, not for loving him.
So yeah…..I seriously congratulate you if you have made it through this 2,113 and counting word long synopsis of my life. I’m sorry if I have bored you to death, but it was your choice to read it
♠ ♠ ♠
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