how fitting is it that i can write, like, 300 words of bullshit on this blog in 5 minutes, and i can't write my fucking 650 word essay about my stupid self for the life of me.
all i usually write about is myself, anyway, why can't i just do this? god. fuck me.
it's kind of reached the point that i don't even remember what it's like to not be stressed. i just live in a constant haze of anxiety and headaches and i don't know how to make it stop. like, i suppose doing what i'm supposed to be doing would help, but i can't. i'm only seventeen. i'm not ready to be making decisions for the rest of my life just yet.
i miss the summer. it was amazing, and i met some amazing people. and i didn't feel this way. i could actually laugh about things. these days it's really hard.
even comedy is hard-pressed to make me crack a smile. compared to freshman year, when i listened to comedy while doing sit-ups and laughed so hard i almost threw up, i am a sad shadow left behind.
ha, left behind. probably the best description of myself i can find. what to do, what to do? everyone always leaves me behind and i let it happen. people usually think it's the other way around, but they give me too much credit.
i finally took the time to sit around and analyze myself and, i mean, it's kind of disappointing what i found, but yeah, i'm gay as fuck but i also like everything else, so i'm pansexual i guess. and nonbinary, probably. i would say agender, but i could honestly go by any pronoun. i'm not bothered by any of them, nor do i really fit any of them, so. fuck it, yeah?
wow, look at this. i'm already over 300 words. it's been maybe five minutes, as promised. i knew i could write about myself. seems i can only reach word count when i shit all over the thought of me.