So what am I doing with my life besides wasting away? 19 year old drop out with a son. Not what I was expecting my life to turn into. I used to be a straight A student with amazing potential. How I lost it all is beyond me. Maybe I shouldn’t have started drinking. Maybe I shouldn’t have started experimenting with drugs. Maybe I should’ve waited until marriage to open up my legs. Damn, I mean I never thought I’d end up pregnant to the first person I ever had sex with (a person nine years my senior). I can’t believe that people who don’t know me see me as a young dumb slut. It hurts so bad because I know the truth. My life is hard. I’m not a bad person . I’m actually quite intelligent. I feel like it shouldn’t be this way. I feel like I’ve been somehow shorted. I’m so young and I feel stuck in a life that I don’t want to be living. I want someone to come rescue me from all of this but I know its not possible. I know I’m stuck for good. I’m tired of being alone with these thoughts. Ugh, at least death is inevitable. Just gotta wait my turn.
My neighbor got drunk and told me I was beautiful, had a wonderful smile and laugh. Then he kissed me, and I kissed him back. Now he can’t look me in the eye. Did he mean any of it?
I’ve never been the one to take initiative when it comes to relationships. Drunken hook-ups seem to be the easiest—liquid courage is such a truthful lie; it doesn’t make me feel more confident so much as if I’m drunk I can use it as an excuse in the morning.
It’s so hard to admit that you really like someone—that you’ve liked this someone forever, but because you’re so self-conscious and lacking some major self esteem you couldn’t go for it. I wish I had been able to just put myself out there because if I had then my best friend wouldn’t be getting married to someone that isn’t me.
I don’t even have to see him every day, even after months apart at college he can make me smile, make me laugh. He makes me feel comfortable with myself and I love every second that I’m with him.
Now I have to be happy for him, and I am happy for him, but so mad at myself. Maybe it still would have all turned out the same way, but maybe it could have been completely different.
I’m a lesbian. I’m in love with a boy. Who is gay. And my best friend. So really… what does that make me?
I need to stop smoking Spirits. I’m only 19 and addicted to a pack a day.
What can you do when you’ve lost your father to a stroke… but he’s still alive? Is that even a life worth living? Maybe that’s why I party too hard… and get too drunk and make my girlfriend worried sick about me… I’m doing the living he can’t do anymore while he sits in his armchair not speaking and watching Whale Wars.
I would hate to have no voice like him… I don’t even remember what he sounds like… but I see him every day.
I have no father.
About once a week I go and visit a man in his early fifties. He is, I think, the saddest man in the world. After years of drugs and alcohol in the 70s, he had a very sour relationship with his mother. He left for the army without mentioning a word to her. The army helped to clean him up, but sadly very few of his issues started before the army. Hepatitis from a tattoo in Korea, a cheating wife, a liver transplant, and two of this three wonderful boys dying in an instant has driven him into a state of constant sorrow.
Going to see him is rarely fun or uplifting, I usually leave with a lump wedged in my throat and a pitiful twenty he forces me to take for moving firewood. It is usually a chore to go visit, something I only do for his sanity. With a second failing liver and a very bitter sweet dream home, every visit is more sad than the last; it seems that every day his stomach is bulging more and his face is more tired. There is nothing I can ever do to cheer him up, let alone keep a smile for more than a few minutes. There isn’t much I can do for the saddest man in the world, beside sit and give him someone to talk to.
I drink a lot. There are many reasons for it, but the primary reason is that when I drink, I feel like I’m my truest self. My tongue gets looser and my inhibitions crumble completely and I can say and be exactly who I always am but never can be. I love it and am terrified to ever stop. If it was truly up to me, I would just go through life drunk all the time. Then people would see the real me and not this fake, diluted, pretend me. My thought process is always: what I actually think – what I know will hurt your feelings – my fear of embarrassment – my fear of your judgment + how society says I’m supposed to feel = what actually comes out of my mouth. It’s exhausting. So…just one more drink please?
I’m sitting here wondering why I do the things I do. I got drunk with some friends of mine and wound up sitting in a chair at the tattoo parlor. Now, every time I look down and see porky pig looking back up at me I hate myself a little more.