I'm not doing so well... and yet I am. I am doing my best and I am not. To clarify, I am doing my best under my current state. This state is not a healthy one. It nips at my soul. It whispers my lack of worth directly into my bloodstream when the disappointment of being rejected by 3 people (one date and 2 "friends") is swallowed down. Any other time, I could shake it off but God, why now? Disappointment is the emotion that I can not tolerate the most and it's the one I feel the strongest. That fear that emerges? Stems from my disappointment in myself for not anticipating a problem.
GOD. I call out to God because who else am I to call out to? Not my parents. I can't believe my father didn't trust what I took with me from the 1st floor. He wanted obedience so I showed him what I had in my hands with wide-eyed disbelief: a pair of speakers that I lent them. I wanted to listen to television shows while I moved my stuff to the 2nd floor. I can not believe it and I must accept that this is my father: a suspicious, authoritarian, short-sighted, defensive boy. Nasty words, they are. God bless my inherited attributes.
I'm regressing to suicidal thoughts. Good ol' standby coping mechanism. I feel like my parents are pushing bricks down on my soul with their harsh criticisms. So I'm also apparently incapable of not stealing food from my brother. I made a promise to myself to get the mini-fridge into my room so I won't do that again. I don't feel like leaving the house.
