Because Life and Lemons and Nowhere to Make Lemonade

I wrote this when I was a teenager. This isn't what it looked like back then. This is an extremely abridged version, with stuff added in. It's about how I felt back then, and how I feel now as well, sometimes. It's a bunch of thoughts thrown together. It's very me, I think.

On graduation day, you want to get up on that stage and cry real tears and say it’s been a long, wonderful journey and mean it. You want to gaze upon their expectant faces – because the future is, after all, ahead of them – and feel that bittersweet sensation which means you care and you’re sad it’s over and you’ll never have this period of your lives again. But you can act. Forget about drama club. Forget about class plays. In that moment, you’re the world’s best faker.

You will cry and hug and say those empty, gushy words that have become so familiar to you. Everything you say means nothing. Nothing you say means anything. It’s how you’ve always been toward each other. All smiles and light hearted conversation, but stabbing each other with daggers in your minds.

Your loneliness is a big thing. It’s so big it swallows you up and doesn’t leave room for anything else.

Some days you wake up, and your skin feels alive. There’s an itch just below its surface, an itch that worsens as the day wears on. You want to lash out, physically and verbally. You want to complain and cry. You want to be left alone. You want to be sympathized with.

You just want. You want everything. You want nothing. You want one thing that you can’t put your finger on. It’s confusing. It’s maddening. You’d peel off your skin and scratch the itch if you could, put an end to your madness.

You are a walking letter of apology. You go around apologizing to everyone, for everything and everyone, but nobody bothers to read you. And the part that makes you the saddest is the fact that you apologize, most of all, for yourself. And for what? What have you done that’s so bad? Why do you feel guilty for merely existing?

You want to be taken seriously and not mistaken.

And it’s so hard to turn the bad stuff into good stuff. It can feel like life’s being hurled at you sometimes. You don’t want to deal, but stuff’s happening and you can’t dodge any of it. And when you do manage it, it takes a lot out of you. It’s exhausting trying to turn negative situations around. Why is it so hard anyway? Because life and lemons and nowhere to make lemonade, I suppose.

The fucking lemonade. Say you do make it. What if it’s not sweet enough? Then you have to go find sugar or honey or something. It's not enough to just make the lemonade. It's got to be sweet, you know? I know you know.

It's exhausting.