작은

I'm always reminded of how small I am. Easy to walk over, easy to yell at, easy to be the one to take the blame; and never allowed to be anything but the bigger person in a world where I constantly feel so small. 
I feel like I'm constantly watching the privilege of others. For some reason I can't take steps of my own. When it's my turn it's suddenly different. I suddenly don't get the privilege that I witness others receive. Is it how I look? How I stand how I act? Am I so different that when I get my turn, I simply don't deserve to be treated like any other? But rather, less than? 
I can't help but feel so suffocated by this emotion. I feel so unlovable whenever this happens. I've felt this for a while, but I feel extremely undeserving of love. It's probably why I don't look for it. Constantly enjoying the idea of it, but never seeking it, fear of perpetual disappointment and having to spend my already short life anticipating something that will never come my way. But what would having it do for me? I think that too... I wouldn't even know how to love properly if given the chance, nor feel loved. It's to the point it feels wrong to even want it or dream about it sometimes. That's how small and unlovable I feel. 
When people are perceived they usually feel special. But for some reason when I'm seen I feel ashamed, as if my clothes don't fit, as if I'm standing in the wrong place, as if I'm merely wrong for existing in a space with others. I know deep inside it's not true. Yet when I'm treated poorly by others or simply stepped on, I can't help but feel validated. 
It's not like I don't try to step up for myself, it's just when I do it's suddenly a problem. Even if other people openly do wrong, the moment I say something it's suddenly something I've caused or something only I am on the receiving end of discipline. I wonder why I'm in a position to watch others break rules, but get myself into trouble if I ever did the same.. 

I think about the time I was a few minutes late to the laundromat, 5 minutes or so, to see my clothes had disappeared from the wash. To see a woman so impatient with me that she removed my clothes and tossed them aside for her own convenience. Yet today, in a laundromat filled with at least five times the amount of people from that incident. People had retrieved their clothes 20 if not an hour after their cycle had finished and I watched, as not a single person dared to touch these people's clothes, not a single soul dared to remove the singular white towel in the dryer that could be occupied for someone else's convenience. And to watch a man enthusiastically say I didn't deserve to use a machine when I arrived after waiting 30 minutes for the lady to remove her stationary clothes, and take it from me anyways. Is it so wrong to feel so small and like I'm the only one that gets trampled on in these situations? Am I so inherently unlikable that people automatically treat me this way? 
I'm just venting but I hate feeling so small. I hate feeling so overwhelmed by watching other people step all over me and I have to just take it. To this day there's never been a situation where I could be the type of person to "act out" and get away with it. There's always justice waiting for me, but never upon others. I feel so out of place, so unlikable, genuinely so undeserving of normal treatment. Always the bigger person, but never have big things themselves. Is that not what it means to truly be small? 

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Sometimes I wonder if the person I currently am is the person I wanted to be in another life. If this is something someone wanted to come to fruition and if I'm just taking what I have for granted. 

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I want therapy so bad. 

I just want to be normal, have normal worries, and not complicate things in my own mind anymore. I don't want my mom to tell me I don't have depression just because I get sad sometimes. I don't want to feel like dying at every opportunity I see. I don't want to question what I deserve and how to get what I deserve anymore. I just want to be okay

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I guess it's high time I realize, that my existence really amounts to nothing, nothing I do would ever be significant enough to really live for, hopefully it will only be a matter of time until I can leave this Earth with no consequences. I'm losing the will to wake up everyday and even get out of bed.

I wish almost too often I never woke up, today as well, I wish I wasn't awake, I wish I wasn't alive. I feel like a broken record that keeps wanting to not make it to the next day. 

But for whatever reason I'm here, awake and forced to see the world move every day, when I don't even want to be here to see it. I wish I were dead already, and it's really a shame that I'm not selfish enough to just close the doors on my own. I want to leave and never see the next day again. I'm tired of waking up and having to live. I'm tired of existing for no better reason, I'm wasting my breath, I'm wasting my time, I'm wasting a perfectly good existence I'm sure someone else would cherish more if I just gave them my shoes instead. 

I don't know why I'm still alive, I don't know why I'm still awake, but I sure wish that one of these days I just never wake up again. And die peacefully in my sleep.

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Lately, it feels quite empty, everything I do. With no end in sight, a change in goals, I wonder, if there's anything valuable or meaningful from living this life of mine. 

Sometimes, it feels as if I live this life without purpose, to merely exist as someone in the crowd for another person's much grander tale, maybe for a person who is loved, knows where they want to be, can do as they please without shackles. Maybe I simply exist to make someone else shine more brightly among the stars. 

We know Polaris, but we never know the lights that shine inferior to it. But maybe for me, I might just be the darkness that stars emanate from. 

These days I wish I had a purpose, I wish I could tell myself in the future, that things can get better, that there are no shackles that prevent me from living life the way I want to. Not that it would ever happen, I think she knows it too. 

Living feels like a chore, even if I died, I'll easily be forgotten, I'll just cease to live. My friends might be sad, but would I even feel it? Would I ever feel the desperate will to live, desperate enough to start treating this poor shell of a body properly, instead of bashing it as if it were a bug that ruined my day? 

Sometimes, I don't know whether to even be grateful, for being able to have problems that aren't devastating, to be even slightly more privileged than others with less than what I have. I don't know if I should even know the emotion of being upset when someone else out there is going through so much worse, and are surviving day by day with it. 

When I can't even bring myself to not think about disappearing from this earth every night before I bury the thoughts 6 feet deep in my pillow as my brain forces rest upon me. 

I don't know why I'm alive, I don't feel like I should be, but I also don't have the courage to leave. I don't have the courage to give up this life of mine, even though I should. This life, feels so meaningless, without purpose. I feel like living my life brings nothing meaningful, my existence could never be meaningful. 

Probably because that's how the stars intended it to be.