Thursday 10/18/18

    Kind of a bad day today, one of those days where you just feel down for no reason, despondent. 

    This guy on the bus kept kicking my chair. I’ve always been so passive. I let things happen to me bc I don’t like getting into confrontations. My friend though was getting angrier and angrier and started yelling at him. I knew the guy wouldn’t listen. He lives in a world foreign to us, where all that matters is reputation, power, and blasting bad music through speakers. He won’t go anywhere good after high school. But right now, I was scared and powerless. 

    I mean, someone kicking my bus chair shouldn’t be such a big deal. But it made me think so much about how afraid I am. I am afraid of what I can’t understand. I am afraid of the guy kicking my bus seat because I will never understand what compels him to do so. My friend was getting so angry and I just felt ashamed and angry at myself; is ignorance really the wisest option? I try to ignore such people but I feel a pull into the world I don’t understand, this push and pull of power and respect. I feel compelled to tell him to fuck off and flip him a double finger. But I am so afraid. 

   I’m not usually like this, but I’ve been very high strung this week. I really should have flipped him off and told him to go fuck himself. But if he’d cursed back at me, I’d probably have spent a long time thinking about it. That’s me, sensitive sheltered girl. There’s a lot of the world I don’t understand. I was born high class, kept away from bad things, had few friends, in a first world country. I prefer to believe what lets me sleep at night. I never had freaks who stalked me, or asked for cigarettes, or had to worry about people breaking into my house. Yet I’m so scared, so unwilling to act. 

   A student committed suicide at my school last week. I can only imagine what went through their head. I can only wonder how it felt as they bled out, or went to sleep, or asphyxiated. And the world goes on like nothing happened. The parents blamed the teachers. The teachers reacted. One encouraged us to reach out. One considered never giving homework again. But somehow, I feel like they’re not the problem. Is it just the education we recieve, the pressure and competition we worry about everyday? Extracurriculars, Ap classes, grades, lack of sleep, procrastination, it’s rampant and it messes us up. We reach out, but in the wrong direction. We escape. We stop caring. But I keep caring. I care too much. 

   I always promised I’d never get to that point of seriously wanting to die. But at times like this I question what it is that I should live for.