tired i'm so cold i got hit by a car and yelled it my boyfriend is beautiful and has lots of female friends my parents will never know me because i dont have their beliefs i screwed up at school and i'm too broken to even attempt to start fixing it i dont allow myself to feel...or i dont have the time so i explode over small things but even though i'm convinced i'm nothing but a shit everyone insists on loving me and it shames me to no end i dont deserve it i want to help. i want to make the world better, its what i've always wanted but i'm in little pieces now and i dont know how to fix it and i dont know how to breathe and i dont want to take anyone down with me i'm terrified of being a burden but i'm so tired i'm hurting myself again i pounded my head against a wall today-- where i fell when the car hit me, where the man hit me, where it pounds when i feel small i cut my thumb open where the desk wounded it part of me wanted to walk in front of that car part of me wanted to twist my ankle, i walked on it, up and down stairs i'm sick with worry about being pregnant-- i punch myself in the stomach. but i'm too afraid to push away my boyfriend because i dont want him to feel rejected, i make love to him and i make myself sick and i dont know how i got here i used to be the type that worried about the way i sleep...i wouldnt sleep on my stomach, i slept on my right side because thats how the prophet slept and i wanted to be like him i was ill for a long time because i didnt continue a chain letter and i worried that it made me a bad person and this girl who used to read my diary-x is a friend of my boyfriends now, and she thinks i'm unstable which i am and i hate her for telling him that... i hate her for reading my blog which was my secret to the world and using it against me in this reality i try so hard to escape from, i try so hard to deal with it and i put all my anger and my discontent and my fear online so i can be better and she took it and gave it to him, the man i love-- and with good intentions too the ugliest things are done with good intentions and what can i say, what can i do? i'm not a judge in a courtroom, i've no right to give a sentence i dont let myself feel because i dont have the time, because i've taken so many steps backward if i blink to take a breath i'll fall and i wont be able to get up and i know that its so selfish to indulge in my little tragedies when everyone is dealing with their hurt, all their hurt and its so selfish to talk about nothing on my blog but myself when i know people who have been arrested for writing politically and trying to better this country i know its so selfish but i'm tired and when i'm tired, i'm weak and when i'm weak i'm insecure and when i'm insecure, no matter how loved i am, by how many people-- i'm still convinced that all i have in the world is me and i'm not even my friend. i wish i could say i were my own enemy--i dont even care enough to be my own enemy, there isnt enough passion involved to say that i hate myself i feel so ugly. i feel so ugly for being admired because i can laugh and say silly things and make light of all the shitty experiences i put myself through i feel so ugly when people say i'm cute, small and cute--i'm much smaller i think so violently. and i have so much rage. i feel betrayed by God. i betrayed my religion i suppose. at a very inconvenient time too. i wish i could stick by islam now that its become so misunderstood and twisted. but i cant, and not because i'm westernized, and not because i've been shocked by the way people who claim to be muslim have acted but because i honestly dont believe in it. because i dont feel when i pray. because the quran doesnt answer my questions. and i dont think its any more inadequate then any other religion out there. i still believe its quite beautiful. i'm in the process of forgiving myself, and letting go of the bitterness i have towards religion is part of that i'm embarassed of all this unfulfilled potential i'm afraid of my boyfriends intolerance for weakness. im told that i'm brave for saying these things, these ugly private things people like me or despise me for it they either think i'm honest or disturbed...or both i suppose, i guess it depends on whether the respect for the former outweighs the fear of the latter i just dont know anything ever and it makes me so very, very tired |