I need to be different.

I need to trust people less.

I need to hate people more.

I got drunk and had sex with a dude I don't even like and I don't know how to feel about myself but I feel as though I need a change and I need to stop having sex with strangers and I need to be better and I need to somehow be more than what I am and it's a hard thing to do but I know I have to do it or else what will I become.

I don't understand what happens to me sometimes. I'm fine. Everything is fine. I feel normal. And then all of a sudden I feel like there's a spotlight on me. When I pass people I hear them whispering their obscenities. Judging me. Laughing about me to their friends. Secretly everyone hates me.

In my mind I know that can't possibly be true. But it feels real. They all see straight through me.

And they think I'm despicable.

And disgusting.

Just as much as I do. Maybe, if possible, even more.

And I get the thought that the world doesn't need me. I could just vanish and no one would worry. It would all be okay. And then I hurt myself. Because it seems right. It's the only thing that seems right. The pain. Because I deserve it. I know I do.

Maybe it will cleanse me. Make me less filthy. Filthy filthy filthy human.

I hate myself so much it hurts to make it through my day.

It's painful to keep up a charade of being ok.

And then just as quickly as I feel everything in the world weighing down and crushing the life out of me...

It's over.

But it's never gone. It's always waiting just under the surface of my skin. An itch I can never scratch.

Next time.
Next time.
Next time.

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This time last year I was almost in love. You know you can feel it when it's close.

This time last year I was taken away to the Navy. Already on the bus to boot camp.

So far, only the Navy has lasted.

Sorry about that almost love thing.

I don't think he felt it anyway.

I cut myself yesterday.

Even though I probably shouldn't have.

But it was something I had to do.

Because I'm a disgusting human being.

And that's what I deserved.

I needed to be taught a lesson.

Do better.

dead.

Why am I so afraid to tell people that I sing?
That I was trained to sing?
That I toured to sing and it was something beautiful?
That music is one of the biggest parts of me?
And that I am only half sated because I never admit that part of that is missing in me?

So, you know what? I'm claiming that part of me again.

Hey.

I SING.

I SING BEAUTIFULLY.

My day will come.

It came out in 2011.
It's 2013.
I finally found it.
AND it's in English.

My roommate is watching Secret Life Of The American Teenager.
Somehow reading that and hearing "I'M 15 AND I'M HAVING A BABY" made me laugh.
As if there were no tomorrow.