i wish i could sleep for a little longer

i have so much to say but so little words to truly capture the way i feel. i've been feeling sad again and it's become a bit hard to manage. it's a quiet sort of sadness, one that sits at the bottom of your stomach, crashing against the lining in desperate cycles. you only remember how it feels when it begins to crawl over you. for a moment, i'd like to believe that someone could relate. that someone could see and feel the same melancholia that's plagued my life for years but the reality is that i'm alone. i know there are people out there that understand. i'm not alone and i'm glad but deep down i know i have to shoulder this burden alone. i cannot explain to someone how i feel devastated over nothing, that my world comes crashing down whenever it chooses and decides to build itself back up when the time comes. i live around people who are so painfully average and capable, yet i lag behind because i'm much too depressed to push myself at a regular pace. i'm too unruly to make my own decisions. i watch behind a glass pane as the people around me become adults while i lag behind. i feel incapable of becoming this idealized version of myself, rather chained down by something i know not of. my parents view me as a failure but i don't think of it too much. i'm bothered but my heads often lost within the clouds, dreaming instead of acting. a lot of this is manageable to an extent and i do seek to manage my life better but there will always be certain things i'll never be able to control. i cannot regulate my emotions like the rest, much too clouded by an overwhelming flood of anguish or a spark of terrifying glee that feels all too wrong. i'll see things that aren't there yet swear under my breath to keep myself safe. knock on wood believing i'll be protected but deep down i know i'm a fool. i've always been a fool. i lay in bed and talk to my friends only to let a singular realization sink in; i'll have to live with a mental disability all my life while the people around me view me as a laughing stock for it. i'm a show to people and i don't know what to do but keep acting. i'll never be perceived as "normal" by the people around me. i feel ungrateful for feeling so distraught about it but i can't help myself. yesterday had been the first time in a while that i found my head ramming towards my bedroom door. a childish habit i'll admit but an indicator nonetheless. i stopped because i scared myself. i saw myself in people that others ridiculed and mocked, and it had clicked; deep down i was no different from them. i was just as unwell and it was terrifying. that and the terrible concussion i had given myself. in a way, i'm still terrified of what i can do to myself. isn't that such a silly fear? to think that i'd be scared of myself when i should be the one that knows myself best. i suppose i'm medicated to avoid doing that. it's terrible that i have to be medicated to moderately function like a normal person should. it makes me feel like a total nutcase. i am a total nutcase. maybe all is not lost, a future as a buddhist monk always sounds welcoming. 

i feel weird, a terrible feeling of jealousy towards everything around me. it's not out of malice, i don't hate anyone. i simply want. i want a normal life, nice looks, a nice body, a less broken household, a full fridge and a whole lot of money. i want it all but i can't have it, at least not some. i usually deny myself of this jealousy in a desperate attempt to put others ahead but the truth is that my body is built from envy, coated in a thick later of false indifference. i feign disinterest but i know i seek it all. i aim high but i can't reach it. like a child, i look forward to sending letters to santa and slipping my teeth under my pillow for the tooth fairy to get them but no one has the heart to break the delusion. they're not obligated to, no one likes to crush a man-childs dream. much too pathetic. though i don't see myself that harshly, i only pretend. i'm depressed sure, but not that bad. i don't see myself as a child either... i don't need to explain this. it's a metaphor, you get it. 

my sighs have been a little heavier and my voice has been shakier, but i suggest you not worry about it. i don't like to cry. 

i don't have a positive note to end this on, but im not looking for advice or comfort. i'm simply opening my mind and letting the thoughts spill out, splashing onto the floor in a flurry of different colors. a twisted alphabet soup. this has been on my mind for a bit, so it's a little lukewarm. i don't have a microwave, sorry.