Taking a break

It’s almost one in the morning, and I cannot sleep. So I decided to blog. I have a little less than 63% battery on this stupid netbook of the schools, so hopefully I have enough time to type until I can fall asleep.

Tomorrow is a girl scout Christmas party- and I don’t want to go. I usually help with girl scout stuff, volunteer to teach songs and make crafts, and usually I do enjoy it, but I am not in the mood to be in a room with about 40 little girls, I don’t even want to be in a room with 10 people, period. I feel that there are too many people judging me, and watching every move I do.

I am hoping I can talk my mom into not letting me go tomorrow, but she’ll probably make me. I want to take a break with all this girl scout volunteering stuff and just spend time enjoying myself, like writing blogs or painting my nails, you know, heal what has been broken.

But like I said, she will probably make me go tomorrow. But I’m scared. I’m scared that in order from me taking a break from girl scouts is if I really tell her what’s going on, that it’s not people, it’s myself.

Josh is pretty much gone now, it’s now just myself that’s telling myself those things. I pretty much just gave up the fight, and let Josh win over what I know. I don’t think that all that stuff about me being fat, and ugly, and just a waste of space isn’t really an opinion. I don’t think that I am really fighting Josh, with me whispering in the background over his screams, “no your not” Josh has eaten me. Josh has eaten that whisper in the background. That voice is gone. I know really truly know that I am ugly, and I am fat, and that I am a waste of space, just like I know that most of the time the sky is blue, and that two plus two equals four.

It amazes me about how much stuff I think about. And how many people that actually do know me, doesn’t know about my battle with depression. They just think I’m okay. I say I’m okay, and fine, and pretty good, but I lie. I lie all of the time; at least once a day. I hate that question, “how are you?” I mean, what am I supposed to say to that every time someone asks, “Oh, pretty crappy, I just found out that I’m diagnosed with depression and PTSD, how about you?” I would rather lie than say that, creates less of a scene, plus people will think that I’m a whore, because I want attention.

I have thought about cutting my wrists, but I haven’t done it yet. But that’s one of the reasons why I need to take a break from girl scouts is because if I go through that, then I’ll want to hurt myself more than just putting my belt on at the last hole, and starving myself. I do those things and so I can feel pain, but the good kind of pain. Like the kind of pain so that you actually can feel something for a change, instead of just being numb.

I wonder what would happen if any of my teachers would see my blogs, what will they do? Will they treat me nicer and get me better grades because of it? Or will they just forget about it, or will they just think that I’m a whinney twit face that just needs to grow up?