pinkparade: girl in a white dress (4)
My name's Zoe, and I think I want to kill myself. 

Not to sound dramatic, or anything.

As years pass, I begin to realize the futility of resolutions and making plans and trying to motivate myself to do things that I know I'm not going to do before I even think about doing them. Almost a full year before trying to go to college, I knew I wasn't going to go. I knew that I would chicken out, or some complication would arise, and I knew that I would be sitting here, as I always do, wondering when my life will begin to change. 
And it is changing, slightly. 
Christopher and I have made plans to move up to the western part of Washington, with his mother. He wants to go to college up there, and I honestly don't care where I go to college, so it works out fine. I just don't want to be here anymore, with these people and these feelings and these memories. I don't want to be anywhere. 

And so that brings me back to my first statement. I want to kill myself. 
Almost daily. I think about it a lot. I know that I'll never do it, but most of me thinks I would be better off gone. It's cliche, yeah. But that doesn't change the thoughts of worthlessness or self-hatred. It doesn't change the fact that I'm too afraid to do anything for myself, and the one time that I did do something for myself, I fucked it up by quitting. I fucked it up. And I don't like fucking up. 

So yes. I want to kill myself. But that doesn't change anything.


pinkparade: (2)

my life, as of late.


It’s the end of the first semester. My senior year, thus far, hasn’t been the hell I’ve imagined years previous, but as I begin to think about all of the things I’ve accomplished so far, it’s difficult to pluck out even just one particularly significant event.

Maybe that’s not the point. Maybe I don’t need just one significant event. Or two. Or three. Or fifty. Maybe it’s all supposed to add up to something significant. All of the pain I keep going over is simply what I had to endure to get to this point.

And what is this point? More pain? More confusion than ever? It seems the more I attempt to figure things out, the more hazy it all is.

Valentine’s Day is approaching, and my boyfriend, Christopher, is planning on staying the long weekend with me. The more we talk about the things we’re going to do, the more nervous I become. The more scared I am of rejection. Even when he treats me like a queen, I just can’t see it. I can’t see how I could possibly be desirable. Somehow he’s able to see past all of my melodrama and my far-from-perfect figure and just love me as me. It’s crazy, unfathomable to me.

Absolutely insane.


As Spring approaches I find myself wanting more and more to get outside and do something - run, bike, longboard, walk, et cetera. My younger sister and I went to our local park by the river yesterday and counted the dead fish that had washed up on the shore. We lost track after something like 12. Hopefully I stick to this regimen of getting out and doing something other than sitting on my bed watching Jeffree Star makeup tutorials.


Until next time.

college

Jan. 8th, 2016 09:08 pm
pinkparade: girl with silver hair (Default)
 




college and what it all means

Last week, my father and I were driving down the road and suddenly, I thought I had figured everything out. I turned to him, and I said, “I think I’ve decided.”

His eyes were fixed on the road, but he glanced at me. “What’s that?”

“I think I’m going to stay here for two years and go to school at CBC.”

And at the time, it really did seem like the option I wanted to choose. At the time, it seemed like I had really figured everything out, at last. Like all of the years I spent agonizing over my choices and the decisions I needed to make and the plans I needed to formulate had finally come to an end, and I could wholeheartedly approach the future without the worries that had been haunting me since I entered high school.

And yet here I am, a week later, thinking over this so-called decision I’ve made, unsure if this is the future I want to approach. Unsure if there’s any possible future I’d entirely want to pursue one-hundred percent. And as I think about it, I really don’t think there is. And that scares me. That scares the thirteen year-old girl who wanted to be an astronaut. The fifteen year-old me who was determined to join the airforce to fly jets. The sixteen year-old girl who wanted to change the world, one environmental restoration project at a time.

It scares me. It scares all versions of me.

I don’t know if there will ever be a time in my life when all of these problems suddenly go away. Maybe that’s what life is: a constant struggle to figure everything you think you need to figure out. Maybe life would be a whole lot easier if everyone realized that you can’t figure everything out.

You simply can’t.


year's end

Dec. 27th, 2015 09:46 pm
pinkparade: girl in a white dress (4)

 

The year is closing, and so I begin to run over all of the little details that shaped it. The first thing that comes to mind is meeting Christopher, my boyfriend. As someone who's known for being quite shy, making such fast friends with him really came as a shock. What was even more shocking was that he asked me to be his girlfriend only after three months of knowing me - and even then, he really didn't know me. Nearly ten months later, and here we are. Two people who probably shouldn't be in love, in love anyway. Two people who honestly don't know what they're going to do with their lives, already planning for a future together that's simply too far out of reach to even see (even with my glasses). It's silly, but I really do think it's going to happen. All of the things we've planned for each other. The only thing that worries me is we might be planning too much for each other, and not enough for ourselves. I haven't mentioned it to Chris, and I'm not sure if I ever will.


2015 isn't necessarily on my list of greatest years, but I'd like to think it's up there. As far as writing goes, this very well may be my most inactive year. I haven't updated my online novel in over five months, and I haven't come close to finishing any other projects that I've pursued. Writing has come to a lull, and for some reason, it's much harder to pick up now than it's ever been before. I keep telling myself that if I just keep at it, it'll begin to come naturally. But I don't think the problem is my ability to write. I write fine. I think it's just that I'm unmotivated. Things that interested me before don't really seem to have the same luster. I've picked up a few new things, of course, but things like writing and reading and school just seem like hindrances. Nevertheless, I am persistent. I continue to write even on days when it seems least appealing; at least I try to. I've been working on a short thriller novel, which is outside of my usual genre. It includes ghosts and murder and all of that good stuff.


+ )

So, 2015. Not a great year in terms of writing. Here's to 2016 being a little bit more inspired.

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Zoƫ. 18. Just trying to figure things out.
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