My diary: an interactive project. Sort of.

1/21/12. I've Been Saying the Things that are Not.

Yes, I quoted Gulliver's Travels in the title of this section. If you don't know, it means that I have been lying. And I have, in different ways to different people. Even to you. Although in that case it's less lying and more hiding things. So these are my confessions. ( I know that since the last section you are all just dying to hear about Conference. Don't worry, it's coming.)

My first lie is to myself. I have been telling myself so many things for so long. here are the common ones:

-Of course I'm smart. That's my greatest attribute.

-I'm sure I'll get into the summer class I applied to.

-This summer I will finally confront my issues. By then I will be able to drive by myself, so maybe I could even convince my mom to let me go to a therapist.

-I'll be okay in the future. I just have to be patient.

I've realized now that these aren't all truths, at least not to my knowledge. I'm not actually that smart when it comes down to it, I just work harder than others; besides, any advantage I have from my intelligence is entirely overtaken by my reluctance to be noticed at all. I probably won't get into the summer class, because there's no way as a sophomore I could compete against the juniors applying for it. And of course we all know what will happen this summer. It will be exactly the same as last year, and I will end up worse than I am now, completely hopeless. The last one I suppose isn't a complete lie, but I feel like I need to stop telling myself that. It will only make it worse if I don't get better.

My second lie is to my sister. This is another case of hiding things. I love her so much, but I just can't talk to her the way I want to. I guess it's more my fault than hers, though, because I know if I did talk to her she would listen. I just can't do it. I can't tell her that I'm so scared of her leaving me behind, so scared she'll find someone better to replace me. I can't tell her that I'm jealous that she has a boyfriend, that I don't think any guy could ever see me that way. I can't tell her that I want so badly to be her instead of me, that I think she is a much better person that I am. I can barely even bring myself to tell her that I love her, because it makes me feel so vulnerable.

My third lie is to you, my dear readers. For everything you have done for me, I have been a terrible author. Between the witheld information, grammar issues, and slacking on responding to comments, I'm surprised anyone is actually reading this. But thank you all for still being here.

I'm not sure how to say this, so I will just put it out there. The knife in my drawer has been taken out more times than I want to admit. to be fair, sometimes I just take it out and stare at it, just to make sure it's still there. But there are other times when I do use it. There are other times when I use my fingernails instead, to scratch lines into my arms, my legs, even my stomach, but that isn't as serious.

But that's not all. An hour ago, I sat in the bathroom, took out the knife, and finally succeeded in making myself bleed. Not a lot, but enough to satisfy me for now. I don't know why I did it. It's probably a combination of a few factors: I had a scratch already from my dog, so it's not as noticeable; today was a long day in which F4 and S's boyfriend came over, which kind of exhausted me; and although I am out of the major  episode of depression, I seem to be having aftershocks that are worse than before. The thing is, it didn't make me feel any better. I think afterword I felt almost relieved that I had done it. There was a sort of adrenaline rush that made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. But it wasn't really strong. Mostly I just feel empty. I'm not even really sad right now, although I can feel the tears right there ready to fall. I guess I just don't see it as a big deal any more.

My fourth lie is to my mom, and this is the worst one of them all. Tonight I looked at her and blatantly told her a lie. I just hope that she'll forgive me, and that God will forgive me, because I just wasn't ready to tell her. After the incident earlier tonight, I went to say goodnight to her. I suspected that she would try and talk to me about how I felt because I had been kind of sullen, but I guess I just wanted to know that someone cares. This is how it went: