And after half an hour of trying to keep it all together while listening to a philosophy teacher who thinks he's the shit for liking David Bowie, I can finally be alone. Well, not really, since I still have to put up with a brother who just loves to point out every little mistake and flaw of me. But I have to hold back the tears, crying would mean that there is something wrong with me, and there is certainly not. Today was a nice day. I had fun. But I don't feel good anymore, I don't deserve to, that's what I tell myself.
It has been kind of a recurrent thing lately. Shamefully hiding bewtween the sheets, on and off from slumber, slothing away my free time and craving my bed when I'm not home. Mood swings destroying each opportunity of having a nice time. Pent up anger that explodes towards innocent people who just happened to be a little annoying. The feeling that my body is hopelessly deteriorating, a rotting carcass that won't move when I want it to. Maybe I'm not completely okay after all, but why? Why on earth do I dislike myself so much at times?
I don't want you to worry, there is no reason to. I'm sure you too, feel like crying for no reason at all sometimes. I just want somebody to be aware that I'm a bit messed up!
Anyways. Despues de andar dando pakupatadas ya me siento bastante mejor.