venting tutorial😳😳😳

hello beautiful people! today i asked myself a question i’ve revisited so many times before: how different my life would be if the traumatic event that caused my psychotic break had never happened. if my past didn’t weigh so heavily on my present, who would i be?

i’ve been missing school a lot recently

tiktok has this feature where it’ll remind you of a picture in your camera roll taken on that same day a year ago. today it showed me a picture of myself crouching on the toilet in one of the girls’ bathroom stalls. it was weird being reminded that around this time last year, i was trapped in the same cycle of dissociation, experiencing feelings i couldn’t quite put into words. looking back im pretty sure i was just insanely unmotivated. i couldn’t bring myself to explain how i felt to my mom, so id go to school just to sit in my favorite bathroom stall until the 3 pm bell rang. i didn’t have much to look forward to anyway aside from talking to my fwb (now boyfriend) after school.

since my senior year started, i don’t think there’s been a single week in which ive attended all five days of school. what started as taking one day off kinda turned into two, and eventually snowballed into what it is now: a little less than a week no school😳 i went back today so yay me i guess 

there’s something particularly unsettling about being so painfully aware of your own self sabotage. i know my assignments are piling up. i get that i’m falling further behind. i know that using my weak immune system as an excuse to spend the day mindlessly scrolling, tapping, and occasionally giggling at dumb shit on my phone isn’t doing me any favors. i haven’t accomplished ANYTHING id planned to. and yet, i keep doing it. i did the SAME SHIT last year 🤯🤯i don’t learn 

i think ive found a strange sort of comfort in the emptiness. there’s something soothing about being completely disengaged from everything. it’s easier than sitting in class, pretending i understand what’s being taught, pretending im listening, pretending i’m not painfully aware of how painfully aware i am. i sit in a corner and act like couldn’t care less about having no friends, lacking the social skills to make any, or feeling as though i’ve been quietly ostracized by almost everyone around me.

maybe the emptiness is easier because it doesn’t ask anything of me. i don’t need to participate, to explain myself, or to pretend to be something i’m not.

my ex boyfriend used to tell me that he knew i used humor to mask the pain i was actually feeling. i think about those conversations more than i wanna admit. at the time i never really noticed it, but he was right. sometimes i wonder how many times ive laughed something off that i badly wanted someone to take seriously. 

tmrs a new day tho right 👀right