What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You feel like you’re still ten. And you are—underneath the year that makes you eleven.
Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell my Mama when she’s sad and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three.
This is a very disappointing anniversary
Nobody has an actual interest in how I feel. They’d just like to see me stop sulking and crying because it makes them uncomfortable
So, so true.
Sometimes I miss the razor blades and sleeping pills more than I thought I would
Well great I feel like a piece of shit human being and I don’t even know what to do. You were upset before you started cleaning so I assumed that you were angry cleaning and you weren’t talking so I got out of yor way and now I’m being mocked and made to feel like I’m ungrateful when I was just trying to stay out of your hair.
Some days I’m more bitter than others, some days I just want to let everyone know but I know that’s out of pure anger and not wise
Going back on that eating disorder status. That was just unsettling and depressing