rus update
There's so much worldbuilding stuff I need to post but that’ll come later. I don’t know what's wrong with me. I'm so, so sad all the time lately. I'm so sad and exhausted and everything takes effort. Nothing I should enjoy doing makes me feel happy. I have so much to do and I will do it, I know I will, but I am so tired. I can't ever complain about it because everyone has it so much worse and I only can complain about the petty shit, because I don't want advice. I've been sad before and I'll be sad again and I will be fine. I know how to handle it. Which nobody likes to hear when they think I don’t, which is another reason I can't complain.
I don’t like so many people anymore for no reason, and everything they do annoys me, even when they are doing nothing wrong. I don’t want to talk to most people and I can’t be anything but sad. It feels like I'm just going through the motions of life. I don’t know what's wrong with me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
God this is such a first world problem it is so insane. "Oh look at me, almost everything is working out for me and I am still so, so sad." Like what kind of bullshit is that, y'know? I’m supposed to be made of stuff that’s at least somewhat different than this. Nigerian and all. I was always a quiet, solitary kid, so maybe I'm just like...going back to my roots? Maybe I’ll feel better when I catch up on sleep. Maybe, maybe, maybe. It just kind of feels like I can’t do anything right, even when nobody says I'm doing anything wrong, even when I am doing things right. I kind of feel like nobody likes me anymore which is like, the silliest and most inconsequential thing ever. I feel like nobody understands me (how seventeen of me, I know) and nobody likes me as much as I like them and nobody would much care if I died. I’m not interested in dying, I’ve got stuff to do and people to outlive, but it kind of sucks really bad to think that nobody would care if I did. And I think it’s fine that I like people more than they like me, it really is, I don’t much mind anymore, it’s just such a miserable way to live even when I pretend it isn't. Which is my fault, too, for liking people too much.
I just don’t know. It’s all so, so silly. I’m being silly. And seventeen. The older I get the more convinced I am that I'll always be that little girl who nobody likes, which is so silly because I liked her so fucking much, and I love her, I really did, and I'm so sad that nobody else could see it, and I'm so different from her. She’d be so proud of me and think I'm wonderful and I think she is so much smarter than I ever could be. I love her. I’ve never not loved her. I think I'm just realizing that someday I'll be the lonely little kid and I'll be older and so happy and feel so, so sad for who I am now, even though nothing is awful and nothing has really ever been that awful. Except that I was born black and the world in my lifetime will always want me dead for it, but like, you know, nothing I can do about that so. So I guess technically none of this matters?
I just don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t think I've ever known anything. I've always been so scared and I've done it anyway which never has made me any less scared, it’s just made me a fraud. This is so silly. And it's silly because silly is kinder than ridiculous. I’ll probably look back on this when I’m well rested, or in March, and think, What a silly thing to say. I'd probably be sad even if I wasn’t busy, so I'm glad I'm at least doing things.
Ugh. This is so embarassing. Expect more worldbuilding and no more of...this. Happy February, yeah? Black history and all that. I can't be sad on my month. And it’s my sister's birthday tomorrow! Hers and my friend's. Everyone wish them happy birthday 🎂🥳🎉🎁🎊🍰🎈. And I’ll be alright. There’s birthdays to celebrate and things to do. I'll be fine.