www.whyville.net May 15, 2011 Weekly Issue

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What's the point anymore? Sitting here, acting like I'm content with where I'm at and where I'm heading. Pretending that I enjoy seeing my friends.

My life has completely turned incredibly fake.

The worst part is that I don't know why. Why it happened, when it did, and how. I just don't know. I've been wondering about it though, I've really tried to figure out why I'm like this. But my lack of determination and passion overwhelms me. I will find myself sitting in class, tuning out the teacher and staring at the clock. That clock. It just goes around in circles, over and over again, never ending. It doesn't get any farther than 12. It's life cycle just starts itself every hour. It's bleak and dreary. It has no real purpose, other than to go around in circles, digging itself a deeper chasm to live in. That's how I feel. I'm stuck in a rut, and I have been slipping into it since forever ago. I just never wanted to admit until I became so unhappy that I desperately tried to claw my way out.

But it's too late to do that, now isn't it?

I've fallen so deep into this hole of oblivion, I feel like I can't get out. Even the two things I've taken the most pride in, piano and writing, have been abandoned. Sure, I've had my ups and downs with piano, and I've had some past writer's block. But this, this is indescribable. The emptiness I feel in my heart and soul haven't just taken over my talents; it's taken over my mind, my life, me.

No one sees it. No one notices that I sit in the back of the room not speaking, not smiling, not laughing like I normally do. No one cares. Well, I guess I'm wrong there. They do, they just don't know, and I won't tell them. I've never felt so out of it in my life. I spin wildly out of control, farther and farther into this wasteland . . . then boom.

No more Lindsey.

I feel useless. Pressure builds up inside of me, pushing against my organs and muscles, bubbling up under my burning skin. It doesn't end. It never does. It's constantly on my mind. Pressuring me into doing something with my life. Turning everything around. Going back to the old me. But I can't. Instead, I just lay in bed at night, staring. Useless ol' me. I'll never amount to my dreams. I give up.

Darkness, you can take me. I'm done fighting.

I'm useless.


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