Every time I log on there are new followers.. I feel so popular XD

I miss reading all my lovely blogs, I've been so busy and not in a good way. I'm drained, directionless, and disillusioned by everything regarding the future. In all likelihood I will get into a goodenoughcollege; spend my days exploring the big city where it most likely resides; meet new people that fascinate me, excite me, make me smile...

Why is this not all so grand anymore? I've always dreamed of leaving this god-forsaken town, running like a madman out of dark hospital corridors and into the bright and shining world.

Why am I so numb? In one way it is blessing, that I will not crash and burn in anguish as I get rejected from every Ivy to which I apply. The people around me think it is a curse. I feel as if the wind could pick up my feather frame, more elvish every day, and carry me half-way around the world and still I would be fine. If M and I were gypsy vagrants, soaking in sunshine and raindrops, I would be just fine.

Starting this Monday my meds have been upped slightly, which I guess makes sense. So all this week I've been not-sad--more like an uncomfortable neutralness. I'm not sure how much I like it, but I've been getting better grades.. Which makes it worthitwithhoutadoubt, of course.






I've also been eating normally, which also makes me uncomfortable. I don't know, I don't know what to feel...

So I was looking at an assignment I was given in my Spanish class, meant to be in the style of a journal entry: What do you fear? And this got me thinking about things that I obviously couldn't write about for my Spanish homework. Because honestly, at this moment I can only think of one thing that I fear..
I'm not scared of heights or bugs or horror movies, nothing unfounded like that. I'm not even afraid of death or failure, not directly. I am worried, though, that I will use one to negate the other.

If I somehow teleported to the future and saw that I was alone, with a lousy job, and a chubby face, and an unfulfilling life, there would be almost no reason to stay on this Earth you know? I know that some of you would agree with me on this..

But what I'm really worried about is, what if I miscalculate? What if success and happiness was actually just around the corner? What if my vision continues to become distorted, and my life is just about perfect but I just cannot see it? What if my pupils grow wider as my hands grow thinner, what if the world becomes a fun house of mirrors and cackling laughter while i sink to my knees, nauseous, begging the spinning to stop
And it would be all in my head, and I would be finally blind.

What is a visionary? Is it someone who dreams of the impossible, of utopias far beyond our means but dreams of them anyway? Or is it someone who has ideas to make the impossible possible, someone who has built a blueprint of the better world that they seek.

Does a visionary have to act upon their daydreaming; what if they simply write about them in their diary, in a letter, to a newspaper, as a speech? Must they start a movement, must they create a revolution of the human race? Do they have to succeed?

What do visionaries, whoever they may be, think of the others who do not see what they see? Are they enraged or saddened or motivated by the wrongness of the world they wish to change? What do they think of the people, the naysayers or even just the ignorant--those that appear so blind, so painfully blind.

When no one around me can understand what I think, even when I tell them in the clearest words that I can manage, I feel so alone. Not only alone but insane; defective and wrong.

How can it be that the only thing I can believe in on this Earth, how can this fundamental truth be invalid according to every single person I tell?

Thank you all so much for just gracing me with your presence and your understanding. I know that all of you are struggling with the meaning and the truths of life as I am. I need you, at the very least, to keep me from believing that I am insane. Regardless of whether I am or not..

This may be my insanity talking, but I, for one, choose to name us visionaries.

I am failing everything and everything is failing me

Malfunction on half a muffin and spiked diet coke is how I function yeah, in my melodramatic suicidal teenage haze they say. I want to survive and I don't. I have given up getting better. My grandfather, I have recently learned, had depression. The grumpy old man wasn't missed by my mother when he finally passed; I, however, gave myself the excuse to open the first bottle.

So it's in my genes, my very being, to live in this tortured way. It is not getting better. I am a defect on the assembly line, a kink in our DNA. This is not a problem, this is a condition. An incurable disease.

My original post was erased.

So here is an approximation without words. And also, my ears are clogged inexplicably. So I am half-deaf and half-mad, and I'm having a panic attack. Just thought I'd let you know..