My chest is burning

My chest is burning

and the thing that is burning in there is anger and dissapointment at the same time. I manage to control myself but it burns, it burns so much.

I am ofc disappointed in myself. That I am the way I am. I only manage to hurt people, I'm hurtful and stupid.

I did scratch the skin on my arm a few weeks ago. I found a glass shard (everytime I find a glass shard I need to scratch/cut myself), but I was very careful not to break the skin. I don't want anyone to see such disturbing behaviour.

What's good with scratches is that they disappear within an hour, and the pain is moderate. And I still get to see something on my skin, something... dangerous and unwanted. Something that gets my adrenaline pumping.

A hero of war

One of the children I'm working with (13y old) said last time to me: "If we were at war, I want to be on your side. You'd lead us to victory".

Yesterday at a party one of my male friends said to me: "You'd fit perfectly in the army. You've got the attitude for that".

I am honesty quite honored to hear that people see me as a strong leader/follower in _war situations_. I didn't join the military, and I have ofc no experience of war, but still.

The strong war-esque female is however just one dimension of who I am. For some I just show that side, for others I show a variety of sides. But it's still me.

Not dying

Hey.

Lot of things are better now.

I visited the place I will be "working" at now during spring and it seems more promising than I feared, way better and... safer.

They arranged things so I won't be stressed to death, and man, they were so NICE. And silly me was afraid I would slowly suffocate, but maybe I won't. The springs seems so much more friendly towards me now.

I have had time to relax, sleep, enjoy my horse and lots more. I have friends who love me and friends I can talk to.

So, yeah. Life is not that bad. I am bad sometimes, and to be blunt, I think I need to be bad to remain myself. As strange as it sounds.

Remorse

I remember back when I was... 13/14, I was a part of a theatre association which I loved dearly and had many friends in. You could say I was one of the "cool" kids, though it feels ridiculous to say it out loud. Or, well, we where like seven teens there (and some children and some adults) and there was one girl I couldn't stand.

She was weird. I was constantly irritated at her, and... oh god it's so embarrasing I want to vomit, I "bullied" her. Or in the end, I don't know how she felt, but she can't have felt good. Seeing her being "weak" in my eyes gave me permission to make fun of her. I thought. I had power over her and I was the strong one, the loud one and I thought she sucked at acting.

Thinking back I think she was just avarege. And I am so embarrased by this. Giving her evil gazes, ridicule her... I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have.

I sometimes check her instagram and she seems to have a wonderful life. She has many many friends, and to be honest, I am suprised at what perfect life she seems to have. Because back when we were teens, she seemed to only have one friend. She's grown up to be a beautiful woman and that somehow makes me feel even worse for what I did to her.

I feel bad when checking her IG. Because I know I purpously wanted her to know that she had no friends, or that she won't ever have friends because she's too weird.

I will never ever ask for forgiveness. I don't want to bring it up. We're not friends on any social media, so why would I remind her of this asshole, who thought she was the better actress and therefore was entitled to make others feel bad about themselves?

This is my punishment. To forever have a sting of bad conscience when I check her IG.

Rip my soul

I just need to get this out before my thoughts perish into some kind of void.

I... I just feel like giving up. I know I won't give up but I want to.

My whole body aches. It feels like I've run a marathon but I've only gone to school and work this day. My mind feels dull and sharp at the same time. I might enter a new phase of my weird "depression" now during march.

I've gone through so two phases already, in January the crying panicky phase, in February the dull, tired, uninspired phase, and what is now in store, the psychosomatic phase??

I just don't want to do it anymore. I don't want to stress myself to the point of death and destruction, and I fear I will. I will cry, rip a whole in my stomach and skin and get rashes again and other bodily diseases
and
just thinking about the spring
makes me...

want to die.

Sweet dreams are made of this

While we're at it, I want to tell about two dreams I've had during this month.

In the first I was at a library with a friend. This friend has had her problems irl during growing up which led her to be a nihilist. And there, in the dream, in the library, she suddenly shows me a hand grenade that she carried around. She told me we should blow the place up, and before I could react she threw the hand grenade and it exploded. I remember the horrible hurting sensation the smoke gave me, it hurt so much breathing explosion smoke down your throat.
We ran away. I was scared, scared of being caught and seen as an accomplice in this crime. And my throat hurt so bad.

The second dream however was different. I was kidnapped by Dettlaff, the villain in Witcher 3 Blood and Wine. He threatened me, told me he'd strangle me to death. I begged him to not do it, and it was clear this was pure pornograpfy for him, seeing a human begging for her life. This continued a few times and he got stoked by my pleading. The whole situation gave him a boner or something like that. And for me, the feeling of being a masochist was... different. I managed to run away eventually, but damn it was an intense dream!

"haunted girl"

This picture here is an acrylic painting I painted when I was an eight grader (14y old). I painted this in school, at an art lesson, and I remember the teacher being so mesmerized, so impressed by this painting that she hung it up on the wall for weeks and weeks and asked all her seventh grade classes which feelings this painting radiates.

She later told me that the seventh graders had answered that this painting radiates sorrow.

I got the highest score for this painting, a pure 10 (out of 10) for it.

I still wonder why she gave me such a high score for it. Maybe she was impressed that a girl my age could comprehend such feelings and was able to transform them into a painting?
Hadn't she seen anything like this before? That would be weird, I mean, feeling like the worst piece of shit ever is not that unusual for teenagers. Hadn't just anyone communicated these feelings into the outer world?

Was the 10 on a paper her way of saying: "It's gonna be okay"?

Or was her grading just an objective fact that I was a skilled painter?