Where I am.

I couldn’t breathe on this bus.

No, not because the bus stunk…. even though it probably did and I didn’t take notice.

But I was suffocating. Suffocating for all the things I saw around me.

Not that the people were horrible, but the mother was mistreating her kids, the retarded guy was being verbally abused, the bus driver getting furious at the guy’s stuttering, the fat girl laughing and pointing, the hot girl nodding and texting, the guy watching and being complacent.

Yeah, I have to add myself in there because I remembered that I ain’t so different.

I could have went up and paid for the ‘retarded guy’ to get him on the bus.

I could have.

I also could have made the rest of the passengers’ day a bit better by doing something other than sitting.

Sitting there and mopping about my life.

That was my introduction, I suppose. (not really, I’m just speaking my mind)

For a very long time, I have been debating a topic in my head.

Should I be good, and not be Christian?

I mean, I am still trying to be Christian….

But will I be worshiping ‘Good’ if I do good acts and not worship God?

I’m scared to do what I think is good, cause what if I am wrong?

Cause anything I do without the intention of worshiping God, is considered SIN.

And sin means bad. And bad means, baaaad.

I don’t know what to do!

I want to be Christian, and I do have experience with lying to myself about my belief.

So if I want to do my good acts, anything, including the bus, and outside that situation, I am going to decide:

“No, I reject this idea of God. I am not Christian, I am not worshipping God.”

But that idea…. sounded so wrong.

And now, it sounds like I have nowhere else to go.

I’m scared to talking to people about these things now.

I f-ck up my close relationship again and again.

I doubt everything to make sure it’s truth.

And when I am convinced it is truth, I doubt it even more.

I want to be more sure and more sure.

I dream, about making up my friendship with K.

Oh man, more than I can count.

One time, it was 3…. or 4?

Nights in row, I kept dreaming of her, and waking up to say to myself:

“Why wasn’t that real?”

Now I know, that it’s real.

And I am quite convinced…. that I want to run away.

I want to go away, so that I don’t rip myself apart because my head feels like, like, like PAIN.

And not being able to sleep.

Sweating, withering in my bed with my pillow in my mouth so I don’t wake my family.

I may be dumb. Maybe even stupid.

But I can see when eyes look at me with disgust.

And I see them.

At church.

Am I lying to myself?

Are they just…. I don’t know, looking at me in a way I misunderstood?

No, I am quite sure that those eyes are the same ones that I fear.

But I still have my family.

I have my Mom that I call every weekend so I can tell her about my life.

And she can tell me the situation at home.

How bad it’s gotten, how rotten it’s become.

But I have my Mom.

I have Elsa, but I always see her and…. half my mask is on.

Cause I cling onto her, I see her as my angel, and I suffocate her.

So I stay clear of her personal bubble, and I stay clear of her personal bubble’s bubble.

Let’s just say, I see a disappoint future for our relationship.

Maybe I should let go.

Maybe I should let go of everything.

And reset.

Reset to how things were before I went to church.

That decision…. will cause me to stumble a shitload.

But maybe it will make me forget.

And maybe it will make me for me lying about forgetting.

My birthday’s next month.

The day where I selfishly got depressed over PY telling me about celebrating my birthday.

I knew it wasn’t possible, but I wanted company and it felt like she was saying it just for the sake of saying it.

And I… I was lonely, and I lashed out.

But I don’t lash out at people because I know it’s dumb.

So I lashed out at myself, and God, and everything.

And my next birthday, is my 19^th birthday, where I am able to drink legally.

And I have encountered people who want to get me wasted.

And I am, oh, so tempted to do it.

Maybe it will be my new drug.

My current drug?

Should I talk about it?

My drug right now is masturbation.

Disgusting.

Yet it gives me the adrenaline.

The rush.

That’s why I know, I will be easily get addicted to drunkenness.

To drugs.

To anything to take away my stress.

At least anything that makes me unaware of the stress.