I'm tired of existing.
Wow. How suicidal does that sound?
Bear with me.
I'm tired of existing. I want to live.
Don't say that there's no difference. There is a colossal difference. It's the difference between your heart merely beating to pump blood around your bodies and your heart serving as a metaphorical symbol of pure emotion and affection. It's the difference between being on this planet for no reason and using your existence to change the world, whether it be a tiny ripple or tidal wave.
Words only get you so far in life. I need inspiration. I need... experiences. I need to get out of my house and fall into an adventure.
I'm starting to think I have bipolar disorder. Not entirely sure what a manic episode feels like, but I think it feels like this... energetic, full of life, fidgety. I can't keep a line of thought. Or concentration. At all. You might be able to tell that from my writing today. It's taking a lot out of me just to string a sentence together.
Maybe I ate too much chocolate. Who knows?
What point was I even attempting to make with this post?
Oh yeah. I'm tired with existing.
These exams need to be over with soon. Higher English is next Friday... but I've done zero revision. Zip. Zero. Nada. Mrs Fulton would be ashamed. I'm not scared... not really. Not yet. I keep thinking "Hey, we're not even on study leave yet! We've got ages!" but we don't. It's next Friday!!
When It does suddenly hit me, how little time we have left... and believe me when I say it will hit me like a tonne of bricks, I don't know how I'm going to handle it. Which isn't good. I have a slight addiction to self-destruction. Or so it seems. The past month was the worst... ever. It was quite a good month, don't get me wrong, but the last week wrecked it entirely.
Okay. I might have just chucked my Pringle can across the room in anger. Judging is not allowed on this blog.
Last week could have been great! Lack of organisation/other plans/Feeling crappy/Stress/Depression just got in the way. It always does.
If the pringle can didn't end up lying across the room last time, it certainly did this time.
Why can't I articulate this?!
Why can't I just tell you what I'm going through right now?
You know so little about me. It's unreal. I'll tell you everything that happens in my day to day life, as long as it's not anything "personal". I'll share my thoughts and opinions on life. I'll attempt to elaborate on issues that actually mean something. But I can't tell you anything about me. Not really. I want to. Please, believe that if nothing else. I want to. I just can't bring myself to type it.
Because every online admission has a consequence.
And consequences suck.
P.S. Don't even know what that was. It's hardly my finest hour of writing. In fact, I'm just pressing the "Publish post" button so I haven't wasted half an hour of my life getting angry for nothing.