It’s New Years Eve and I’m sad. I got stressed and angry and burned myself. I’ve been alone in my room all day and no one cares. I don’t want to live yet here I am. Alive. Alive and alone. Some days I just wish to set myself on fire.
He used to sing, when he thought no one was near. Or maybe he knew I could hear him, and he just didn’t care.
I wonder if he’d still be proud of me.
The smell of the ocean. The low horns of fishing ships. People working on the docks. Stealing food and getting into fights. Gangs. Blood. Deirdre.
A red coat. Steady hands. He smelled of death and cigars.
I lost a lot. I don’t live that life anymore. I wish I did. It was scary and dangerous. But it made me feel alive. I don’t feel alive anymore. Just empty. Nothing but memories of another time. Another life. It burns inside me.
My cats never leave me. They never ignore me. They’re the reason I’m still here. I’m never alone as long as I have them.
My brothers and my niece is here. Tomorrow my aunt and grandma comds over.I hate it. I hate it when the family is together. I’m always forgotten. They all talk to each other and have fun and I just barely exist. My mother always tells me to come join everyone but what’s the point? I just sit and listen to their conversations, no one talks to me. It’s better I just sit alone in my room. That way I’ll feel less ignored. If they really wanted me there they’d talk to me.
Nothing makes me more depressed than the holidays.
I’m feeling down today. It’s 6pm but I think I might go to sleep. I have things to do but I don’t have the energy for it.
Mom bought me old books yesterday. From 1915, 1940’s, and 1950’s. They’re pretty. I love old books.
I wanted to write more but I’m too tired to think. I hope you’re all having a nice December.
It’s the most terrible time of the year. My anxiety, stress, and depression always peaks during Christmas season. There’s always much to do, there’s the pressure of buying gifts, the fear of spending too much and not have anything left, and the family is the worst part. If I spend time with them, I feel tired and anxious. If I don’t, I feel guilty. I can’t win.
I’ll survive this year too. Then things will get better. Until winter. Maybe next year I’ll have my own place. Then I can sleep during Christmas. If not, I’ll just induce a coma. I’d prefer it.