The Lost Chapters

Yeah, that’s the name of the Fable game that’s right above my desk. Jared left a lot of his games in here. I feel bad because he always comes in here to play something or other with me, and I always say no or that I don’t feel like it. Speaking of him, we were lying down on my bed chatting it up about why I’m depressed to which I only gave him the symptoms of bi-polar disorder and did not address anything on a personal level. He only slept for two hours this morning from 5am to 7am, so I told him to take a nap in my room, which he did. It was comforting being completely in the dark. I had already napped for 4 hours so I wasn’t sleepy. I just started texting Rona and twittering a bit. It’s amazing how much I can sleep when I’m depressed. As a matter of fact I’m sleepy right now and would have no problems whatsoever going to bed starting now until sometime tomorrow morning.

I met with Katie today. She looked exactly like I imagined her. She seems really new, though, and I know for a fact she is (Alfredo told me so). She seems a little lost for words to say when I tell her how I feel. The word feel still disgusts me. Anyway, that’s fine… Katie and I can talk and learn more from each other, I guess. Fuck, tears started falling down my eyes when I was explaining some things about my past. I hate how shit still affects me every time I talk about it. I tell everyone I’ve walked it off and I’m so over it. Really, I’m not. I like to pretend.

Here’s something I wrote spur of the moment earlier:

I’m willing to talk now, but there’s no one willing to listen. Or at least they’re not asking the right questions. Is it possible to ask the wrong questions? Yes, of course. The people I want for support don’t really care. I really know how to pick friends.

To be completely honest, here’s me:

My mother had me when she was 19. I was raised mostly by my grandmother. My grandmother died in her sleep… from a heart attack? I don’t really know. My father was a drug addict. I’ve only seen him a handful of times, but I still know what he looks like. He’s an excellent cook. I sometimes wonder where he is or what he’s doing.

My mother got remarried when I was about 5 years old. In 7th grade she and Favio got a divorce. She bit him — I’ll always remember that. It’s a hard night to forget. That year I was institutionalized twice (in a mental hospital). Anger issues. Bi-polar is often misdiagnosed as ADHD or anger issues, in young children. Yes, I’m bi-polar. I take medication for it. Since seventh grade my mother and I have gotten into many physical fights to the point that I would have to miss a week or two of school so the bruises and cuts could fade. I still remember having to lie to my friends (especially when getting dressed for P.E.) where the bruises or scratches came from. Lying hurt the most. Not being able to admit it hurt so much.

I want to be happy. I want to be a normal human being. And mostly, I don’t want to feel so alone. There’s reason to hurt inside, but I’m tired of feeling miserable. There’s such an exhaustion from having to hurt all the time. Please save me. Help me. It feels like I might just break down at any given moment. My soul is gone.

That’s me. Take it or leave it. Apathy comes knocking on my door today.

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