on: Lackadaisical posting.

When I break I clean.

on: Blue.

So there's this book called "The Color Code" by Dr. Taylor Hartman. As I was lying in bed just now trying to go to sleep (and not succeeding very well, mind you) I was thinking of all sorts of possible things as is custom. Recently I have taken to thinking of all the possible friendships and slash or love interests that could be in my life right now if something drastic happened and human contact was actually made with me. It has been a common theme in my quest to find friends for the past year for me to think about personality types and how they go together. Also, I'm just one of those weirdos who thinks that kind of thinking is fun. Then it dawned on me. I'm a blue personality type. Blue personality types feel fulfillment in their life based on intimacy. There is absolutely no possible way that a blue without friends cannot feel in the deepest depths of depression. The very thing that makes their life worth living is nonexistent. This revelation was so astounding to me (which I really, really should have realized it long ago because I pretty much treat "The Color Code" like the Bible of self analysis) so much so that I jumped out of bed and came to write a post about it. No wonder I feel so out of sorts! No wonder I feel so purposeless! No wonder I feel so lost! I feel like I can finally feel okay that I feel this way. And if I knew I had any readers I would perhaps change that sentence so someone who wasn't me could understand it, but I know that I do not so I'm leaving it.

Here's the thing, though: I still need to make friends somehow before I can stop feeling like I'm reeling through a giant pointless black hole that is utterly never ending. And I've been trying to do that for a while because I've known for a while that the fact I that I don't have friends is seriously affecting me. And clearly I can't just do what I've been doing for the past 11 months because it's not working and will most likely not work in the future. I need to go outside of my comfort zone. Way outside of it. Which will suck the most massive balls that I can even imagine. But living without a purpose for until I just so happen to stumble into friendship (and, let's face it, that probably won't happen until I go to college, and I can't STAND waiting two more years hoping someone will reach out to me) isn't going to cut it.

I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. But I have to do it.

on: Waking up late.

I just decided that waking up late when you're depressed is nice because it gives you less day to deal with. This is only a good idea, though, if you aren't doing anything on this day or else major anxiety will kick in which will inevitably lead to a mental breakdown.

on: Being.

Here's the thing, I've been wanting to post for a long time, but my laptop wouldn't let blogger come up for some reason. And it was not the usual error message that I get, so I just kept trying day after day. So here I finally am when I really need to be doing other things like SLEEPING or WRITING or SHOWERING or pretty much ANYTHING and I just had to write a post because who knows when this chance will come again? Really, the things is is that I'm too lazy to use a computer that is not my laptop to do anything computer related. There you go.

I know that it probably seems like I'm a pretty negative person based on what I write on this blog. That's because I just say what I want to say. And honestly, there aren't many positive things to talk about right meow. I literally have no friends. I am incredibly lonely. I am very behind in school. I have a million things I need to be doing at any given moment. And I have no outlet for anything that I am feeling even thought I do see a therapist. She doesn't count as much. I pay her to listen to me. Well, my parents and our insurance pays her to listen to me.

In person, though, I'm pretty bubbly. I act happy and smiley, I laugh and joke and say awkward things but that are charmingly awkward. Everyone who I've told how I really feel acts completely floored, stunned that I am not actually happy. Then pretty much I just think that they're stupid if they can't tell how much pain I'm in all the time. Here's the real kicker, though: it's like that public me is someone totally different. Sometimes I say things and at the same time I'm saying them I'm thinking, "Where is this even coming from? I don't feel or think this way at all." I've even caught myself acting stupider around people just so I can let loose and have fun and feel like I'm included and like them. Someone caught me on saying something completely idiotic once and she {brutally, she wasn't really the nicest girl} made fun of me. I was taken aback. I hadn't meant the completely dumb blonde joke-esque thing I'd said. I just wanted to feel like she was my friend because she was all I had. So I decided to take the route of looking at her like she was crazy and I had, of course, been kidding. I don't know if she even picked up on that...

Something I've noticed about myself is that I am incredibly malleable. I have a pretty weak personality, not going to lie. If I'm hanging around somebody I start acing like them almost instantly. Then later I feel completely stupid because THAT'S NOT WHO I AM. I gave off a totally wrong first impression of myself to anyone that was there. I honestly don't know how to be ME. I try really hard to, but it's difficult when I'm the only one like me. And I don't me in the everyone's unique kind of way, but in the I have a different sense of humor, different interests, different style, and no friends kind of way. Sometimes I wonder where I would be if I didn't have those few things in my life that never change and are always true.

on: New years. This post is brought to you by the word "suck".

I could use this time to rant to you {although I am positive that no one reads this blog regularly even though I get views from places like Russia...} about how I do not believe in New Year's resolutions. But I have thoroughly worn out that rant for the past few years to anyone who mentions anything about them. So I don't particularly feel like getting into that. But as far as talking about years, I am not above that.

I've been thinking about years and life for, well, ever. Probably because I'm kind of bored with it all. But it is a strange concept to think about, really. Thinking about this past year is a whole big mix up of silliness. It started out with unsurety, then progressed to worry with a tinge of hope, which grew into complete suckiness with some new prospects, then it became emptiness and major suckness, then a couple weeks of too good to be true, then back to just as much suckness, then even more suckness. Then pretty much that continued until now. Over all there were about 4 nonconsecutive weeks of nonsuck. Which upon looking back at my year can make it worth it, but overall it was a pretty empty year.

I usually spend New Year's and new school years thinking about how I am going to make this year my year. About how things are finally going to be different. Things are finally going to start getting better instead of worse. I'll work really hard and be rewarded for my hard work. Well, I tried that. Didn't work out so hot. Worked on one occasion, but that was it. All of my extremely hard work of this year to prove myself in multiple areas and instances really didn't work out at all. It only made thing suck worse because I still wasn't rewarded or recognized for how much I worked for something that I in the end didn't get.

So, instead of hoping that this year will be the year that things finally go my way, and I will finally be happy I will give up instead. I expect nothing of this next year. This way I can't possibly be disappointed. Maybe I'll be happily surprised, and maybe I'll just be right about how unspectacular my year will be. But I guess I have to face that I have to stop hoping that just because it's a new year, or my birthday, or a new show that I'll magically be happy and everything will start being okay. Because I'm not just going to magically be happy. Which is kind of really annoying that I have to put so much effort into just feeling okay, and then maybe happy, but that's how I got through my sixteenth birthday. The birthday that every girl looks forward to for all of their life. It will be perfect. It will be great. I will be happy. I didn't even try. I wore my favorite dress and went to opening week rehearsal. I didn't even have a full piece of my cake. I didn't have a party. I didn't expect that people would actually be nice to me, or that I would simply be happy. And I must say, it was the best birthday I have even had.

Here's looking at a subpar new year!

on: Sleep.

I'm not very good at sleeping. I never really have been. Even when I was little I'd stay up way late and sleep well into the morning unlike most kids who wake up at the crack of dawn to begin the day of annoying their parents. And I have made a habit of napping during the day because I never seem to get enough sleep during the night. And I'm always tired during the day. Always. Me and sleep have just never really had a good relationship.

When I started taking anti-depressants and trying new ones pretty much every month they made it harder for me to sleep at night. Before that I could sleep at the drop of a hat. Anywhere, anytime, I could nap if I felt so inclined. The only annoying part was that I never stopped being tired or sleepy. But now I had problems with the actual act of sleeping. As well as with napping. The first time I laid down for a nap and couldn't sleep was one of the most bizarre moments of my life.

Lately, though my slumbering skills have been seriously lacking. I've tried taking insomnia medication, but it just made me extremely loopy and not able to remember what I did when I woke up the next morning. Because I was always stupid enough to stay up trying to suck all the productiveness out of my day that I possibly could even past when the drugs kicked in. And sometimes much, much later. One night I made a Tumblr. I don't even know what Tumblr is. But I have one. Some other fun stories come from when I was texting while the drugs kicked in...lost a couple friends that way...clearly they weren't good friends anyways if they don't stick around through hallucination texting. I at least let them know I was hallucinating before I sent the most acidic texts of my life.

Probably one of my favorite Ambien stories, though, was one of the first ones. I was hallucinating that I was a pirate, so I of course updated my Facebook status from my phone to, "I am a swashbuckling pirate." I believe there was a bit more pirate jargon in there, though, but I don't remember what I said exactly. Then about an hour later I was a ninja, so I reupdated my Facebook status to, "I am a stealthy ninja waiting in the reeds, prepared." Funny that I was a both a pirate and a ninja in the same night. Let's just say that I won't be taking any illegal drugs or alcohol any time soon from what me and Ambien had together.

But what I was taking wasn't really supposed to be taken long term. So I stopped taking it and it turns out that I don't sleep unless the sun is up. Cool, huh? I'd lie in bed for about 20 minutes at a time pretending to sleep then roll over and look at the clock which was still somewhere in the 4 AM hour. That would happen all night until about 6 or 7 when I would finally fall asleep until 10 when I had to wake up and go to choir. It was a grand old time. So I started taking melatonin which is supposed to just make your body work the way it's supposed to and not make you loopy. Well, still having a bit of trouble with the whole idea of sleep. But sleep is over rated anyways, right?

on: Cleaning.

Now, I don't have OCD, but I am a little bit weird about cleaning and being organized. I go through these phases, you see, where I keep everything organized, then I let things get unorganized slowly because I grow busier and what will a couple sweaters on the floor of my closet yet to be hung hurt? But when I clean, I clean. And sometimes I do get a little obsessive about it.

Recently I went a little nuts and took everything off of all of my walls, got a bunch of grocery bags and started attacking my room. And I'm still not quite done, but for the most part the bulk of it is done. I went through every single one of my belongings going by area of my room or piece of furniture that they are in and either kept, threw out, donated, or put it in a box for my closet. I also reorganized a lot of it.

I still have some bags I need to take out, and things I would like to throw out, but need to replace first, but pretty much I exorcised my room. And I was a little brutal. It's actually kind of bugging me that it's almost done, but not. Maybe I'll work on that some more tomorrow.

Here's the thing, when I feel stressed, or overwhelmed, or anxious I clean. It gives me a sense of control that I need when I feel like I'm losing it all. Sometimes it gets really bad where I can't sleep and have to get up out of bed and clean into the wee hours of the morning. I just get so anxious and looking at a mess while anxious does not help all that much. And cleaning it is distracting. And afterward I usually feel somewhat more grounded.

So, a couple weeks ago I broke. Hence the room renovations. I fear the day when there is nothing left to clean or organize.