I have spent the day upstairs, alone, isolated, racked with hate, sorrow and fear. The world around me spun as I remembered events with her- call me fucking sentimental. Every so often a new wave of awfulness would come over me and I would be racked with the feelings that I feel o’so regularly I probably know these feelings better than the kids at my high school. They tell you all these great things about being a teenager. But for me it hasn’t been like that. They don’t warn you about falling in love, they donmt warn you about the days of being holed up in your room feeling like crying but nothing comes out because it can’t. Because it doesn’t happen to everyone. By the time night had come the awfulness that plagued me hadn’t and I still felt as if I should be revising for an impending test but instead I continued to ignore it.
It’s funny today as I lay atop on my bed. The world felt much more desolate; all because I wore a cardigan instead of North face and listened to Morrissey instead of Kanye West. I am different from the drones of today and yet for that the world feels much more desolate and I am tortured by the starkness of not knowing anyone with the same interests and music taste me. For that I laugh, and want to cry but I don’t have time for that. Numbness hasn’t consumed just yet. The era of high school- the blip that is high school for me is coming to an end. That is the solace I have provided with, but college awaits and that’s probably going to be as fucking dreadful as well, maybe more so. Britain’s lack of options is truly woeful. My doubt of the future maybe even more so.