This is an out-of-body experience.

I hate looking at myself and hating it.

But that's what it is.  I have this small, and getting smaller, part of me that wants to fight it.  That small part that fights so hard to smile when appropriate and laugh when things are supposed to be funny and react like a normal person when in company of others.

Because I deserve to be normal and healthy and not the shadow of myself that I am.

Then there's that other part.  It's all encompassing and smothering.  It hurts to breathe and at the same time it doesn't.  Maybe I'm to that point where the pain stops and the numbness starts and...I'm so lost.

You know how much it hurts to be?  It's worse when your life becomes white noise and static.  It kinda feels like that tightness in the back of your throat when you're about to cry.  But you're not allowed to cry. When you do it's an endless time loop of sobbing and pain and the tears don't stop. You don't even know where they're coming from anymore or why they have to be there, but they are and you have to find a way to deal with it without everyone finding you and pitying you.

Because with pity comes stupid phrases like:
"Happiness is a choice"
"Just cheer up!"
"Jenny, you look better with a smile."
"Good to see you smiling, for once."

Oh sorry, I forgot to put my goddamn face on.  I had a moment where I slipped.  I'm sorry my perpetual depression caused you a moment of discomfort because I wasn't smiling.

I want to rise up and claw the person apart and smile while I do it.  But I can't because I'm tired and in pain and it's just easier to fake a smile and please everyone else.

And maybe that's why I hate being this way.  I'm not a strong person anymore.  I'm not extraordinary anymore.  Nothing stands out.  I've ceased to be anything special.  Maybe I never was.

...and there's no one there.  I have no lifeline.

So I guess I'm watching what's left of me drown.  Even if something pulls me out this time, there will always be a next time, and the time after that, and the time after that....

Things my best friend does...

…trips up the stairs

…likes laundry detergent on facebook

…comes over, then consistently makes my bed for me

…gets weirdly possessive of my bean bag chair

…yells “JENNY JENNY JENNY” across the entire dining hall

…yells “JENNY JENNY JENNY” across…anywhere

…gives me wrong directions, when she’s already using a GPS

…forces me to yell “IS IT CLOSER TO CALIFORNIA…OR TO THE OCEAN?!” When she can’t tell me to take highway east or west.

…trips down the stairs, lands, and stays there, then gets on her laptop.

…tells me that I can just wax her eyebrows for her.

…okay, maybe not the eyebrows, but will I do her nails?

…leaves me in the living room of her house with her family I’ve never been introduced to…because she really had to pee.

…shouts “OH BABY” every time someone says anything remotely sexual.

…and puts up with me.

You know the more I'm told to be positive the more negative I'm going to be.

Is it annoying? Good.  Because you know what? My personality is my decision.

The more I try to be a positive person the more it gets thrown in my face.   People will just return to my past behavior.  You know what people? You don't know why I acted that way.  And you never cared.

So why should I conform to the behavior norms that make you comfortable?  They make me uncomfortable.  You don't need to be around me.  You don't need to read this blog.  There's no reason for you to click that link, if you don't want to.  If you knew me at all, you'd know what you were getting into.

My opinion is mine.  It's certainly not the most hateful opinion on the internet.  Forgive me, I'm not a lovefest.  I believe that I should be able to talk about the things that upset me, annoy me, hurt me, or make me happy.  The proportion of unhappy posts in relation to the happy posts follows my life. It's not meant to be caustic.  Think about that for a second.  If the majority of my posts are unhappy, it means the majority of the time I am unhappy.

What kills me is that the post that gets the most hate is my post concerning pot users.  People completely skate over the whole fact that I was harrassed and bullied on the internet (and in person) over the fact that I simply wouldn't use.  I feel like people can't take a different opinion.  I know it's different.  I don't want marijuana legalized.  I have my own reasons. And yeah, it's a differing, dissenting opinion.  GET THE HELL OVER IT.  It's not the end of the world, and yeah, you don't have to read it.  And get a clue, the last line of that post... is a joke.  That stupid ass phrase was popular at the time and I was making fun.  Because apparently on Blogger everyone takes everything so seriously.

No wonder everyone has a Tumblr now, including me.  It's so much easier to just reblog someone else's material without backlash, because that's literally all it seems to be.
Pictures, gifs...I guess it's harder for people to be offended.  What's the point of words, actual, composed thoughts?
I guess they're no longer worthwhile, because people can't handle it.

Debating on keeping this blog at all.