I had three weeks of summer vacation which I’ve spent without much plan. I just let myself wallow in my own desperations about life. It probably ate away at me, but not that I could really do anything about it. I guess, being aware of something doesn’t really do us good if we’re not willing to do anything about it. More than once, I was pulled in by razor resting on my windowsill as a Plan B, an escape and a getway that doesn’t require me to pluck up the courage to actually run because that razor isn’t for my demise, it’s for the physical pain. I’ve said it before. Most times I think of cutting, it’s to redirect the emotional pain I can’t control or handle, but most times I just stare it. I guess, I’ve learned to fear it too just like I fear all else. It sits there rusting and mocking me. Also for a while now, my hair’s been a mess and I’ve gotten pimples. Acne and I were never friends, but back in high school, I didn’t stress much as I do now. I guess, everything for me just feels like falling apart. I’ve always been emotionally unstable, but to physically be unstable is new to me. My wrist often hurts. I get headaches. Sometimes, my stomach hurts from thinking too much and it makes me want to eat which only leads to more problem. I’m actually pretty proud of gaining some fat, but at the same time because I’m not used to it, I feel a little insecure with the bit of fat that now shapes my body. Most people don’t see it though it’s clear they aren’t me. Physically, I’ve only started to change now which really has nothing to do with puberty, I would think. I either eat too much or too little. It’s not bulemia and it’s not anorexia, but I do feel it’s somewhere in between. I think the worst part of all the changes occurring within me is that I have no one to tell it to. I have friends who I trust with my secrets, but I haven’t found a friend I could trust my life to except for all these writings and the knowledge that I’m anonymous to all of you. Sometimes, I’ll type it out on the chats we have and erase it all because at least I said it… or attempted at least. Other days, I feel like an outsider and the pity I feel for myself turns to hatred towards everyone, to friends. I’ve never been truly alone, but these days, I feel the loneliest amidst a crowd of people. Their private conversations tell me that I can’t join. Most of all, their laughter and smiles make me feel like they’ve already walked too far ahead that I can’t even find the strength to try to catch up. Most days, I feel like I’ve stood in the same place I stood when I was only 15, like I haven’t done anything but look to sky. Life is horrifying. It’s scary and I’m afraid of it. The world is just as vast and unknown. The truth, probably, is that I have no plans in life and I’m not particularly worried about where I’m headed. I’ve tried to please my parents for so long, I can’t even remember the little girl who used to envisioned a whole world in her head. I can’t even remember the little girl who imagined people and creatures as her friends away from friends. I can’t remember the girl who believed in that love can conquer all. I was a romantic. I was a lot of things that I am no longer. I was me until I lost myself.