My Depression on Paper

Jealousy

I am jealous of everyone. I see women with babies on the train who are smiling and happy with their infants and I want to be them. I don't like babies, or ever intend on having children at all, and I am jealous of those who want to have babies and love babies. I want to be normal, even though I know that there is no real definition of normal.

I want to be the girl with the pink hair on the train who can wear what ever she wants and still feel great about herself and life in general. But I do not personally like the way she dresses or her style. I like to look classic, with everything in a certain place certain order. I like to look put together. But, they look so carefree, like they have no care in the world, while I am sitting there worrying about why my faithful hairspray isn't doing that thing that makes my hair look beautiful anymore.

I want boys to want me just so that I can lead them on. Just so that I can mess with their heads and they will want me forever because I will never give them all of my attention at any one time. I want them to want me so terribly badly, but if they start to want a real relationship I want to run.

I make no since but I don't care.

Selfishness

I am completely self consumed. I live in this little world where I can't possibly imagine anyones life going on without me in it. I don't realize that every one has their own lives that are going on outside of the existence

of me. The guys I date I don't even realize that they existed before they met me. I think that the entire world and all the people with all of their private lives revolve around me.

I am shallow but I don't care.

I am obsessive compulsive about these things. I think about the way I look, why other people are happier than me, and which boys want me, what they want me for, and what I'm going to do about what they want me for. I am so obsessed with myself.

I can't be happy unless I think that I am pretty. I never feel pretty unless all of my boys are around me. But, if all my boys are around me and they are constantly telling me that I am pretty then I think that they are womanizing bastards. But, if they are not telling me that I am pretty I think that they think that either I am not pretty, or I think that they think that they are better than me, which drives me insane.

I am insane but I don't care.

I miss my home. Where my parents live. But, if I were there right now I would be miserable. The worst feeling in the world was going home to see my loving family, in the house that I had always lived in and having to live out of my suit case. It was my room, but none of my things were in it. It was my family but they didn't have to worry about me, because I would be leaving soon to go back where I now live, eight hours away. It was my house, but I didn't belong there, I never thought that would happen.

I wish they would move out into a different house so that I wouldn't feel as if I am supposed to be there. This is how selfish I really am. I want my family who I love dearly to move out of the house that they have always lived just because I am now uncomfortable.

I am so inconsiderate but I don't care.

When I was little I was perfectly happy just sitting in the grass with a fishin pole. I miss that. Something so perfectly simple as the grass next to a lake with a pole in my hand. Or I could just sit there in the tire swing that my daddy put up in the tree in the back yard. It was so simple then.

I am unhappy, and worse then that I care.

In Love

I hate myself for ruining my relationship with my high school sweet heart. I love him. I will always love him. I didn't mean to ruin it. I didn't even know that I was doing anything wrong when I did.

I had a friend once, he was a good friend when he was my friend. But, he was in love with me. He would take breaks from our friendship because he couldn't handle me not loving him back. These breaks would last about a year at a time, then he would come back and want to be friends again. When he was my friend he was a good friend, and I missed his friendship when he couldn't handle me not loving him. He came back once, It was around Christmas. I was young and in love and ready to have him back in my life to be my friend again. Then my love met my friend and knew that my friend still loved me. My love is a jealous person, always has been and always will be, and he was now happy that my friend loved