Dear Life: Entry One (Entries from the broken)

September 28th, 2019

Dear life,

I’m writing this letter to life and myself. I’m twenty years old, which is pretty incredible. I never thought I’d make it to twenty, and honestly wish I didn’t. The more I look at life, the more terrified I am.

I really thought I’d be somebody, but I’m still a nobody. I go to school like everyone else, still live at home, and just try to make it in life. I don’t even have a fucking job! Isn’t that sad?

I get so hung up on people who should mean nothing to me, but for some reason, I still think about them all the time. It makes me really sick that I do this to myself because it just shows I have no respect for myself. That’s something I really need to work on, but I could honestly care less about it.

So here’s the deal. I’m obsessed and like to think I’m in love with a dude who’ll most likely forget about me in the next year or two. His name is Adam, and I’ve been in love with him since middle school. Isn’t that just stupid and pitiful? It is. There have obviously been other guys, but since I realized there was finally a guy who liked the same things as me, which was really rare during middle school, I was convinced I was going to marry him. The thing is, now I just like Adam cause he’s a cute, stupid, wannabe skater boy. He’s the type of guy I used to tell myself I’d fall in love with.

It’s sad that I believe I have a chance with Adam. It’s sad that I believe I have a chance with any guy. I’m nothing special. I’m ugly and pitiful and don’t know how to control my emotions. I’m an open book in the worst way possible and I scare people away, just because of that.

School isn’t my thing and it’s never been my thing. The sad thing is, I don’t know what my thing is. I have started to question my writing skills. I used to play instruments and sing, but now I’m just horrible at that. It seems that I’m horrible at life, but I don’t know how to tell myself that because I want to believe I’m meant to do something amazing.

I just want to show all the people who had ditched me or thought I was strange, that I can actually do incredible things. I want to show them that I can be somebody, but I don’t think I’ll ever get to do that. I don’t think I’ll ever get to live a day where I’m able to show those people I can be more than they thought. Not because of climate change and earth dying, but because I don’t think I’ll let myself make it that long. I believe I’ll kill myself before I ever make it to the age of twenty-one, and I’m not even surprised. I don’t think I want to live to see twenty-one. There’s something about the idea of living to be twenty-one that makes me sick to my stomach. The idea that I even made it to twenty makes me feel sick. I don’t want to continue in this life, as I feel I wasn’t meant for it.

I need a sign. If I’m meant to continue I need a sign. A sign I WANT! Not some stupid sign, like someone, tell me it’ll get better. I need the universe to give me a sign that I daydream about. I need a sign that says, “Yeah, it’s gonna be okay.” Why can’t the universe just have Adam notice me more or something stupid like that? I think that’s a perfect sign. That’ll never happen though, cause Adam thinks I’m a freak.

It’s stupid that I’m so so in love with Adam. What’s the point? Obsessing over stupid assholes from middle and high school is pointless, yet here I am still doing it. I still obsess over Adam and imagine scenarios that make no sense at all. For example, I live in California with him. We have an apartment or a small house. There I am, in the kitchen, making food and dancing around like an idiot to every song I’ve ever loved. There’s Adam, watching me and laughing as I sing into whatever cooking utensil I’m using. That’s how a lot of these dreams go. It’s all a lie though. I’ll never end up with the skater boy.

I pray that I end up being okay, instead of crying when I think about the fact that there’s not much that makes me happy anymore. I know I’m nothing compared to the girls Adam talks to. I’m nothing. I’m nothing and will always be nothing.

I wish I could go back. Back before I saw Avengers: Endgame. I wish I could go back because I feel like for some reason everything just changed after that. My entire life seemed to kinda fall apart after that and I don’t know how to mend it back together. I’m really struggling, and nothing seems right anymore. I don’t even know if I want it to feel right. I want a reason to kill myself, and if life is so fucked up, then it gives me a reason.

I hide my pain from everyone around me. I hide my pain from myself. I tell myself that I’m fine, till I no longer believe it. The sad thing is, I don’t think I ever believe it. I just keep telling myself over and over that I’m fine, when I know I’m not fine, at ALL. I’m so far from fine, but I guess that’s okay.

When I’m sad, I listen to Jack Johnson, because it reminds me of my dad, and I love my dad. My dad is my best friend, and I almost lost him once. I think that changed me a lot. I think that made me more nervous and kind of hated myself more than I ever had. Maybe it’s because I had been worried about my dad for a while, but didn’t say anything.

Life is hard, and it keeps getting harder. I hope to one day be able to pay my dad back. I hope that one day I’ll be able to pay my dad back, by giving him his dream. Hopefully, I’ll be able to buy him that shack he wants to live in or buy him that hot dog stand. I hope I can maybe move him out to Hawaii, where he can live in peace with my mom. I really hope I can pay him back, for all the great things he’s done for me.

I decided to write this jumbled-up mess of a letter to life and myself. I’m twenty years old, which is pretty incredible. I never thought I’d make it this far, and sometimes I really wish I didn’t. I hope that one day I can accept myself for who I am. I hope one day that I can tell myself that I’m okay. I hope one day it’ll all be okay. I hope one day I can look at myself in the mirror and be proud of myself. I hope one day I can smile without feeling broken on the inside. I hope one day I’ll marry someone special, possibly Adam if I’m lucky. I hope that one day everything is okay and that I’m okay.

I’m twenty and I’m broken. I’m so broken, and I don’t think I’ll make it past twenty-one. I really hope I don’t, but if I do then I hope life gives me a chance. I just hope.

Love,

Jude