THE happiness of others just seemed better to ascertain than the happiness of my own. I would rather go out of my way, and make someone else’s day rather to dwell on my well-being. It just seems less selfish that way. I put up a front that just makes me seem emotionless. I would rather seem emotionless and make someone happy by doing his or her deeds and chores than bitch about it and make a big deal about it. I am a very compliant person.
Is it bad that I am quiet?
Of course not; I feel as though keeping my mouth shut and going with the flow seems better. I have ideas, I have opinions, and I have thoughts and memories. But does it really matter? Giving people the empowerment gives them great confidence and I would like to give it them. Or does that make me insecure. I am envious of everyone around me. They all have their **** together, know what they want from life, and have the confidence and self-esteem to acquire it. I however, am sulking about my life. I shouldn’t because wouldn’t that make me selfish?
I hate being selfish.
Glancing across my room, utter disdain fills me; it looks like I live in my grandparents’ home. I hate how I give my mother the authority over my room design. I hate the way people treat me. I hate the way my sisters just **** on my life. I hate the way that life just sucks. I hate the way that nothing goes my way. I hate that I hate everyone that makes me miserable. I hate the way I look. I hate that I care about appearance, like it’s one big contest to be the prettiest. I hate how I come off as apathetic and annoying. I hate so many things about myself that I want to change.
I ask very little in return and have yet to receive any of it.
The love and respect from my family and so-called friends. Not many people know this, but the more important people in the whole entire world to me is my parents and sisters. The opinion means so much to me. Yet, they just hate on me. They don’t appreciate me and would rather just make me the pack mule of the family. I asked if my sister would extend the same amount of help to me if I asked. She replied in a snarky way, “I would begrudgingly complain how you can’t do it on your own, but I will.” What does that say to me? It tells me that I just hate my life and I am just a helping figure rather than a person. Personally, if someone asked me to do something, I will do it, and depending on my mood, I would be cheery or frustrated. Feel as though no one wants to be near me because I am so depressing. I am depressed. My mother, a doting and worrying person, hates talking to me. I can tell. Less conversation to me is better for her. In one day, the most words she would say to me are to do dishes or to be a better person. I, being the middle child, feel as though I have the worst the most. I don’t get respect from my older sibling, and I don’t get respect from my younger because I’m not the oldest. I tried to give my little sister a hug; she commences to furiously slap me, not once, but in a repeated motion of five times. I love the respect I receive from my sisters.
I feel inadequate for life.
My mother is just so expectant of everything. She expects me to be honest, to be fair, to be religious, to be smart, to be charismatic, to be pretty, to be feminine, to be skinner, to be a good daughter, to be everything and anything, just not be myself. With that in mind, how can I feel comfortable with who and how I am? She thinks that I am homosexual just because I am not interested in dating, or making myself more feminine than other girls. She's always comparing me to her friend's daughter who has a 4.0 GPA, perfect looks, perfect boyfriend, going to Medical school, and has their **** together. I wish I knew how to communicate better. It’s funny how ironic that I am majoring in communications when I don’t know how.
I can’t do this anymore.
One thing I can’t really stand about my life is that no one will understand how insecure I am about criticism. I grew up, being criticized about every minuet detail, and I just feel as though I can’t stand it anymore. Little things that my sister says just break me, and now, I’m just broken. What does she see me as? She thinks that I am basically a soulless bitch. I don’t blame her. But I just can’t stand that persona that I have seemed to unwilling portray anymore. What good has that done for me?
I’m good at lying.
Creating a false image of myself, as being the good daughter and the person that is so helpful. I hate it. I don’t want to ask my parents for money to buy their stuff for them, so I use my money. And then I buy gas and then I buy food, and then I hang out with “friends”, and then I just try to live like a teenager. But it’s not working. I don’t know where all my money goes. I know it’s those stupid shopping spree to compensate for the lost feelings, and it’s the stupid temptations to just buy everyone everything because I’m so nice.
This is something that only I will only see. No one else will see it because it is how I feel, something that no one will know. It’s horrible that I keep myself locked up like this. To let boil and simmer over could be dangerous, but I’ll take that chance to make everything better, to keep the peace instead of blowing my head off with arguments. I feel as though most arguments begin with opinions. I am very open-minded and like to hear others opinions before giving my own.
I am a selfish being because this whole rant is about me. I hate it…
Let’s keep it that way. Seventeen years of an image made is harder to alter than it may seem. I would rather be the bad guy and see the other prevail as the good figures. I would rather see someone happy then myself cheerful.
I am lost.
In the beginning of senior year, I was somewhat sure of what my character was, how I affected the world, and my place amongst my friends. But, now, senior has ended, I don’t know who I am anymore. I have no enjoyment in anything anymore...
Is it bad that I am quiet?
Of course not; I feel as though keeping my mouth shut and going with the flow seems better. I have ideas, I have opinions, and I have thoughts and memories. But does it really matter? Giving people the empowerment gives them great confidence and I would like to give it them. Or does that make me insecure. I am envious of everyone around me. They all have their **** together, know what they want from life, and have the confidence and self-esteem to acquire it. I however, am sulking about my life. I shouldn’t because wouldn’t that make me selfish?
I hate being selfish.
Glancing across my room, utter disdain fills me; it looks like I live in my grandparents’ home. I hate how I give my mother the authority over my room design. I hate the way people treat me. I hate the way my sisters just **** on my life. I hate the way that life just sucks. I hate the way that nothing goes my way. I hate that I hate everyone that makes me miserable. I hate the way I look. I hate that I care about appearance, like it’s one big contest to be the prettiest. I hate how I come off as apathetic and annoying. I hate so many things about myself that I want to change.
I ask very little in return and have yet to receive any of it.
The love and respect from my family and so-called friends. Not many people know this, but the more important people in the whole entire world to me is my parents and sisters. The opinion means so much to me. Yet, they just hate on me. They don’t appreciate me and would rather just make me the pack mule of the family. I asked if my sister would extend the same amount of help to me if I asked. She replied in a snarky way, “I would begrudgingly complain how you can’t do it on your own, but I will.” What does that say to me? It tells me that I just hate my life and I am just a helping figure rather than a person. Personally, if someone asked me to do something, I will do it, and depending on my mood, I would be cheery or frustrated. Feel as though no one wants to be near me because I am so depressing. I am depressed. My mother, a doting and worrying person, hates talking to me. I can tell. Less conversation to me is better for her. In one day, the most words she would say to me are to do dishes or to be a better person. I, being the middle child, feel as though I have the worst the most. I don’t get respect from my older sibling, and I don’t get respect from my younger because I’m not the oldest. I tried to give my little sister a hug; she commences to furiously slap me, not once, but in a repeated motion of five times. I love the respect I receive from my sisters.
I feel inadequate for life.
My mother is just so expectant of everything. She expects me to be honest, to be fair, to be religious, to be smart, to be charismatic, to be pretty, to be feminine, to be skinner, to be a good daughter, to be everything and anything, just not be myself. With that in mind, how can I feel comfortable with who and how I am? She thinks that I am homosexual just because I am not interested in dating, or making myself more feminine than other girls. She's always comparing me to her friend's daughter who has a 4.0 GPA, perfect looks, perfect boyfriend, going to Medical school, and has their **** together. I wish I knew how to communicate better. It’s funny how ironic that I am majoring in communications when I don’t know how.
I can’t do this anymore.
One thing I can’t really stand about my life is that no one will understand how insecure I am about criticism. I grew up, being criticized about every minuet detail, and I just feel as though I can’t stand it anymore. Little things that my sister says just break me, and now, I’m just broken. What does she see me as? She thinks that I am basically a soulless bitch. I don’t blame her. But I just can’t stand that persona that I have seemed to unwilling portray anymore. What good has that done for me?
I’m good at lying.
Creating a false image of myself, as being the good daughter and the person that is so helpful. I hate it. I don’t want to ask my parents for money to buy their stuff for them, so I use my money. And then I buy gas and then I buy food, and then I hang out with “friends”, and then I just try to live like a teenager. But it’s not working. I don’t know where all my money goes. I know it’s those stupid shopping spree to compensate for the lost feelings, and it’s the stupid temptations to just buy everyone everything because I’m so nice.
This is something that only I will only see. No one else will see it because it is how I feel, something that no one will know. It’s horrible that I keep myself locked up like this. To let boil and simmer over could be dangerous, but I’ll take that chance to make everything better, to keep the peace instead of blowing my head off with arguments. I feel as though most arguments begin with opinions. I am very open-minded and like to hear others opinions before giving my own.
I am a selfish being because this whole rant is about me. I hate it…
Let’s keep it that way. Seventeen years of an image made is harder to alter than it may seem. I would rather be the bad guy and see the other prevail as the good figures. I would rather see someone happy then myself cheerful.
I am lost.
In the beginning of senior year, I was somewhat sure of what my character was, how I affected the world, and my place amongst my friends. But, now, senior has ended, I don’t know who I am anymore. I have no enjoyment in anything anymore...
Mine did.
