October 5, 2011

Uncategorized 1 Minute

I wish that there was something to write about but there is not. I’m so fucking sick of repeating myself.

Tomorrow is Thursday and Thursdays are always nice. The reason that Thursdays are nice is because sometimes on Wednesdays my mom brings me to church. Church makes me feel very sad because it reminds me of how alone I am and that makes me have feelings of panic and that makes me want to hurt myself so that’s what I do and when I do that I let everything out. Then the next day I have let everything out and I become an empty shell. There is no room to feel anything because my heart is a little vacuum. I have real scars now, real ones that turn dark purple in the sad I mean cold. They are the songs I don’t sing. From every fucked intention to the way I feel when I wake up in the middle of the night, I want to put the future in a box and retrogress.

Published by uuggla

Born in 1996 Over the coming months, I'll be publishing several journal entries a day in chronological order. I began journaling in 2007, when I was eleven years old. Even then I wrote as though I were archiving my life, collecting details about my world. As I grew older, journaling became more of a description of my emotional world. I am an aspiring creative nonfiction writer who is producing very little since graduating college this Spring. But with this unusually thorough account of my entire adolescence, I feel as though I have been given a gift that has been under my nose this whole time. This is a practice in forgiveness and vulnerability. It is also a way to laugh at myself.

Published

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Gravatar
WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Cancel

Connecting to %s