Sometimes We All Just Need a Good Cry

So in the past ten seconds, these three thoughts came to mind (in chronological order, of course):

1. I have SO much to say, but have no clue where to begin.
2. Scratch that. So much of what I have to say is shit. So many of my thoughts are pessimistic, self-absorbed, nonsensical, and stupid.
3. And now I feel bad for saying all of that. Grr.

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about my past. I guess that's what people who are unsatisfied with their life do.

I've been thinking about how in eighth grade, I graduated from Rosemont Middle School as an honors student, with straight A's, excellent citizenship, numerous awards in math and English, awarded as the best poet in my class of 1,200. I had moved from Seattle three years prior to that, and had almost adjusted to the new lifestyle. My parents were proud, my brother was little, and I was skinny and happy.

Three years later, my world has completely changed. I got straight A's in ninth grade, but in tenth grade I got numerous B's and and C. This year received two C's and numerous B's as well. I flunked my AP tests. I am a failure in so many ways, and yet not a single friend or family member knows. I guess you could say if there's one thing I am good at, it would be keeping this information from them. At least, until my actions will come to bite me scathingly in the butt. And that day will come frightfully soon.

I'm also a little overweight. I used to be so skinny and lovely; my mom, aunts, and (female) cousins would always compliment me on having such a beautiful, slim body, and my friends would voice their envy to me as well. I was never arrogant about my body, but I took the compliments for granted. I didn't realize how the tables would turn in such a short amount of time. Now I'm the girl who's complimenting others, envying the slim, healthy bodies of my girl friends, hating myself for not being able to whip myself into shape again. It angers me, it depresses me... But then the pain numbs, and for a fleeting second, I realize that I don't care what people think of my body, nor what I think of anybody else's. This numbness ebbs away quite quickly however, and I'm back at square one, an angry bitch- angry at the world, angry at herself... It's a cycle, I guess. And it sickens me.

I'm not an honors student anymore.

Today my AP Enlgish Language exam result came in the mail. I got a 2. I failed. Well, I got a 1 last year on my AP Biology exam, so I guess you could say this is one tiny iota better. Nonetheless, this prime number has further sealed any chances of heading straight to a four-year university. Fuck. I hate myself.

It's so easy to be mad at yourself. It's also incredibly easy to get mad at others. To blame others for your mistakes, and to not accept that you are completely and solely responsible for what has happened in your life. I do that a lot. It's soothing, in a disgusting sort of way.

I just wish I could start over again. In a different city, or a different state. Hell, I wouldn't even mind starting in a different continent! A fresh start is such a desirable thing.