Maybe I Am Desperate.

is that so bad?

This is so raw and way too vulnerable. Y’all know me. I can be goofy and silly a lot. I can be a cocky bitch sometimes. But I wanna share this to show the duality of my emotions.

I wrote this a while ago. Every time I went to post it, I would stop myself and just close my laptop.

---

I don’t want to be here anymore. I just don’t. This isn’t a suicide note or anything like that. I’m not gonna kill myself— relax y’all. I just hate this world. I stick out like a sore thumb. I’m constantly in my head a lot. Constantly thinking about how I am being perceived. Constantly annoyed at being misunderstood, time and time again. Trying to figure out if I am the problem or if I’m just not compatible with people. Trying to figure out if I’m really smart or if I just feel like I have to overcompensate since I’ve always been looked at as the underdog. What the fuck does all of this shit mean? And do I have to understand every single experience or interaction? I’m going insane. I don’t understand what is going on in my life right now. Why was this person just here and now they’re not? Why do I feel like I’m all over the place? Am I all over the place or am I just super passionate and intense and expressive in a society that prioritizes stoicism and perfectionism and emotional detachment over the full spectrum of emotions that comes with being a human? What is all of this trying to teach me? What if it’s not trying to teach me anything? Will I become the girl I’ve always envisioned on my vision board? Am I really reckless? What if I’m not as creative as I think I am? What would happen to me if I lost my job tomorrow? How would I pay bills? And why am I freaking out about shit that hasn’t even happened?

Am I worthy of love? Am I even ready for it? I don’t know. Do I look weird for expressing my thoughts on social media? Why do I feel like I’m constantly in a simulation? Why am I still trying to prove points to my father, who isn’t even in my life anymore? Is he still controlling me more than I think? Am I oversharing or just being a human? I have these questions every single day. I don’t know. And I feel like I need to have the answers to all of these things and once I do, maybe life will be better. Maybe everything will come into fruition. Maybe just maybe… I’ll have some sense of direction. But then again, what if I had all the answers? What if my life didn’t magically change? Why am I always in a state of existentialism. Sometimes, I just wanna beat my fucking brain with a bat. I actually wish there was a rage room where my brain was taken out of my head and I was able to take my frustration out and beat it. Hard. I would scream with the rage of Bernadine Harris. Brains everywhere. Pieces scattered all on the floor. I would wear a bunch of plastic just to be sure I’m not getting any of the pieces on my skin. I don’t want it touching me, whatsoever. I want it beaten so mad that it turns into mush. Consistency of mashed potatoes or cream of wheat. And then disposed of in the garbage. And replaced with a new brain, where I can be a new person.