i don't really give a fuck who reads this, if someone does, that'll warm my heart a wee bit; throughout my whole 18 years, i've always been the outcast, i was never photogenic, never had anything to call my own within my niche, just nothing at all. not the looks, the personality, but whatever. i guess thats why i dress funky, 'cause i have an ugly ass face. i like blending colors and patterns with shapes, to distract the eyes off of my face and onto somewhere else and still be acted decent toward; funny thing is, i hardly shop, if i do, its a once a year kind of thing. im not gonna say i envy people with money, but i just wish i had it like they did. with me, its digging through the closet and doing the whole mix and match thing. anyways, with my self confidence dead, my anxiety attacks arise. the simplest things i can't even do. i guess the mind really is one of the strongest weapons; i think way too damn hard, "maybe they'll think this, maybe they'll think that," i just need to let go of everything. i was just lying in bed today, for hours, from when i got out of school, until 7:30pm. i starved myself the whole day and ate nothing; i mean i wasn't in bed the whole time, i was getting ready to head to dale's house until the attacks started to kick in; i just had to sit down somewhere cold and cool off, i couldn't really take it anymore. i had to text dale and tell 'em i couldn't make it anymore, and he didn't reply, i think they were waiting for me; so i just hopped back into bed, my hair wet but done, sleeping in skinny jeans, and wrapped in a blanket. i hate the way the mind works, my mind; its set to think of negative things, i always put myself in the worst case scenario, and they actually happen. to give a perspective, the attacks feel like... like your trapped within a box that you can't escape, being shackled and you're being shocked, it feels like your being zapped and it just rushes through you, it doesn't hurt, but it itches to the point where you're jumping around looking like a damn lunatic. you can't really do anything but pray for emancipation. they never happened until the beginning of this year, back in february, had them ever since. at first i thought it was just a sickness, but then i guess it was a mental health problems. i told people, and eventually went to a doctor, they drew blood, did a whole bunch of evaluations, and they told me that they are indeed anxiety attacks, and that the only way to cure them would be through the way i think, i don't think i can fight it. i remember for our english final, we had to write about some horrible experience, and i wrote about this, saying that no one really knew what it felt like, and i just went on and on, and it was an inclass essay, i didn't even get to finish; but then the last day i had of that class, my english teacher, ms. chenoweth at the time, tapped my shoulder out of the blue. and told me that she read my essay and that it made her cry. for some reason evil teachers no one really likes tend to love me. she even offered my a job at the theater she owns to help boost my confidence, i loved it there, but i declined the offer. blogging about this isn't for me to receive sympathy or anything, thats the last thing people need, but to hopefully change the way you see people, because words aren't as strong as actions, but they still do the job and knock 'em down. tangent; my hair and nails grow pretty damn fast, and i hardly cut them, only when they're too damn long. so my toenails were hurting, so i pulled my sock off, and both of my big toenails on both feet almost fell off, but then i cut them and im safe now.
