You know that feeling you get when you want to cry but can't? That feeling when every thought suddenly becomes overwhelming and it makes it hard to breath? Either that or it's the heavy amount of insect repellent my mom used on a little roach I found in my bathroom. I can do spiders, but not cockroaches. For one thing, spiders can't fly.
It's been a while since I decided to write something. I had no motivation or ideas, but oh well, stuff happens I guess. I haven't had motivation in a while, and honestly I still don't. I just like writing. So what am I writing? The story of a girl who finds it hard to breathe all the time and she can't figure out whether it's because of the insect repellent or because of the heavy feeling in her chest.
So here she is, sitting on her bed, her back propped up against her spring green wall and her fingers pattering away at the keys of her laptop. Sometimes her phone goes off and she gets distracted from what she's doing because of her needy boyfriend. She doesn't complain though. She enjoys taking care of him and feels more useful when she does as well. He needs her attention a lot and sometimes he just doesn't get that she never really converses with anyone. She will yell at him for that from time to time though. That definitely gets on her nerves.
She always says she's useless and pathetic. I can't blame her, I think of myself the same way. She thinks that her life was one big fluke and that everything is pointless. But what of her love? you might ask. Of course he means everything to her and she loves him with all her heart and soul, but sometimes she drags herself down so low that she thinks that maybe he'd feel better off without her. It's not like she's easy to talk to or interesting at all in fact. She's a simple, plain, boring girl with a negative attitude towards herself and over thinks literally everything. Well, almost everything. She has more competence than that, but her stress can become very destructive (especially since she is not good with stress relief).
And then she draws a blank. What is there really to write about? she breaths. Both she and I know that there isn't much really. Her creative juices haven't been flowing in a while for writing. She tried songwriting but soon realised that some people really aren't cut out for certain things and it would be better to leave it all to the professionals. She's tried so many times but there was never anything she deemed worthy of being heard. It only stressed her more so she decided to stop.
She can't really draw either. Well, other people say she can, but in her opinion it's not really drawing. They're more just scribbly doodles, she always says. Sometimes they can look pretty neat but other than that they're not worth a show either. She gave up on art a while ago.
Though she cannot write music, she prefers to enjoy the ones already written and made. She always enjoys the meaningful lyrics that she can relate to and loves to sing along to them with all her heart. Often times she goes quiet though, because she doesn't want her parents to hear her (which happened anyway). But after a while her voice fades and cracks because she realises how annoying and ugly her voice sounds. She never liked her voice. She really can't stand it.
And now here she is, left again with nothing to write or do. Her skills seem to be limited to aimless pondering and self loathing. She always thinks she's not worth anything and untalented. Sure she can do a few things, but she's not really great at them. Not even good, she sighs. She's left again with that overbearing feeling of weights in her chest and the desire, but disability, to cry her heart out. She can't because she knows that crying won't accomplish anything. That's what she was taught when she was a little girl. That always haunted her. Go and cry and all you want but no one will come for you because your cries will accomplish nothing but patheticness, is what she was told. They were right though. Crying accomplishes nothing.
That thought gave her a headache. She was already dizzy and unable to breathe, likely because of the repellent again. And now she also really can't breathe because her she held her breath because she always has trouble responding to his messages sometimes. There's more? But how much more? she whimpers. How much more could I possibly love you? she wonders again. Again, she stresses and over thinks everything but her mind seems to be going through a lot.
She's been getting awful dizzy a lot lately and she doesn't know why either. Probably because of the heat. She has a tendency to get overheated and becomes slow when she does.
Oh and now she's crying.