Just a Rant/Vent/Thought-Train.

It's not fair sometimes. It really doesn't feel fair at all sometimes.

I know it's my own doing, but it still finds a way to stab me deep and really hurt.

I never wanted to be born socially inept or emotionally unstable. I never meant to become an anti-social girl who waits all day for only 40 minutes of "conversation" a night. If you'd even call it conversation, because I don't and I won't. It was more like me sitting in silence struggling to get a reply. Meh. It's my own undoing, I really understand this, but it still feels unfair.

This morning a guy who knew me before my surgery saw me for the first time since the procedure. He told me, "If I didn't know your wonderful smile, I'd never have guessed that was you. You were beautiful before, but look at you now! Wow!" That was a good feeling. No, not good... amazing. Absolutely amazing. I liked it. I hate to say it, but I want more people to say things like that to me. God knows my deflated little ego needs all the help it can get.

What is it about me that makes me so fucking awkward? What is it that makes it where I push away all my real-life friends? Why do I resort to people who live so far away, people who have lives outside of me? Actual lives. When did I become so pathetic that I'm simply somebody's after-thought? That nobody can spare the time to give me a decent conversation? That they don't care to tell me what they're doing... fuck. Maybe I don't deserve to know what people do with their lives. It's none of my business. I guess I should've realized that sooner.

What the hell, Dani? What the fucking hell? Why are you so stupid that you waste your life waiting on people to open up their schedule for you? Why are you so idiotic that you think people should drop everything for you? Why can't you get your own fucking life? Stop depending on others, because nobody gives a damn. So get over it. Get the fuck over it.

It's weeks like these that make me remember why I became suicidal in the first place. Who wants to live their life waiting for others while they go out and live? Apparently I do, because it's all I do. Wait day in, day out, diving further into an anti-social pit because apparently it's worth it to me somewhere in my twisted little mind. Or maybe it's because I'm so fucking used to it that I don't know any better.

I want a life. I want people to wait for me. I want people to wonder where I'm at. It's selfish, I know, but damnit, I want someone else to understand how I feel! I want someone else to know what it's like so I don't feel so alone.

Alone. That's become the key word lately. Alone. Alone, alone, alone.

I've given up trying to discuss my dreams. I'm slowly giving up on explaining my moods. I'm learning to give up asking how things are going, because the answer is always the same. The open book that used to be me is closing, and I don't think anybody really gives a fuck. And if nobody else wants to care, then fuck if I will. I'll close the book, padlock it, and throw the key off the top of a mountain.

Maybe then I'd actually be happy. Maybe then people would actually be interested in me. Maybe then my life would develop some kind of energy of its own.

I'm sick of living my life in someone else's shoes. It's not fun for me any more, especially when I wind up spending so much time feeling like this -- feeling like I don't matter; like my opinions or feelings are meaningless. I dug this hole far too deep and now I can't get out... and now I'm just going to waste away in this little abyss. Not that anybody'll ever notice it, anyway.

What happened to me? When I was younger, I was social and happy and free. Now I'm just a depressed and lonely waste of a life that could've been anything in the world. Now I'm just.... Nothing. Nobody. And the only person I can blame for that is myself.

For one day, why can't it be the other way around...

For one day, why can't I be the one with a life...

For one day...

Just one day...

I wish I could mean something to somebody.

But the truth of the matter is, I just don't.