I use to have a lot of dreams and aspirations…not anymore.
Growing up I always dreamt of becoming a famous paleontologist. For those of you who don’t know what that is, in layman’s terms, I wanted to dig up dinosaur fossils.
Jurassic Park was a huge inspiration for me. My passion for all things dinosaur related exploded. Of course before I had seen the movie I had read books on the ancient creatures and they fascinated me so much!
Until this one fateful day during the 8th grade at Von Stueben Middle School in Peoria, Illinois that was my dream. My English teacher, whos name I can’t remember, told me that my dream was stupid in front of my whole class. She was making us all stand up one by one to tell the class what we wanted to be when we grew up.
Being at an impressionable age…I believed her. I was an emotional wreck at the time, I had attempted suicide a few times by that point but no one knew. My depression allowed her to stomp on my lifelong dream and crush an important part of me in the process.
Now, at the brink of turning 25, I am still depressed. I have no real direction in my life and I seem to be going nowhere. I guess after writing all of this I have had an epiphany.
I do have a dream.
There is a man that I love more than anything in the entire universe. His name is Ariel. I dream of one day him asking me to be his wife. I dream of building a life and a family with him. He’s the only thing good in my life. He’s pretty much the only true good I’ve ever had in my whole life.
I love you baby. Forever and ever, but even forever isn’t long enough.
Definitely getting the feeling that if I died not a soul would give a fuck. That’s fine. I’ve shed enough tears on my own to make up for everyone else.
I’ve been crying for days now…when will this end? Sitting here, alone, like usual. I wish I had friends. I wish someone would call or message me and ask if I want to hang out. I sit here by myself in the dark wishing I’d die. I’m so lonely…:(
Here’s to another night of lying on this couch and wishing I’d just die. I hate my life. I hate this black hole that’s inside of me. I hate being so alone and crying myself to sleep.
Every time I message someone on Facebook I feel like they really don’t give a shit about what I say and that they really don’t care to talk to me. I read their messages as if they’re annoyed by me. I don’t know if it’s the case but it really does feel like it. Another thing that makes me feel utterly alone…
11 days until I’m 25 and I’d rather die than celebrate. I have absolutely no friends to hang out with, no money, and my family couldn’t care less about me. This is the time of year I’m always most depressed during because of my birthday. It always becomes a thousand times more clear that I really am alone. I don’t want the 31st to come…