geekfreak9

[geekfreak9]

the life i dont know how to explain

Growing up, life hasn’t felt easy or simple for me. A lot of the situations I’ve faced have been difficult and overwhelming—like I’ve had no control and no one to help guide me. I’ve often felt like I just had to deal with everything alone, and no one really cares how I feel or what I think. I live in a home and a community where I’ve always felt out of place, like I don’t belong. That kind of loneliness doesn’t just make you sad—it makes you feel invisible. Like your life isn’t moving anywhere, like nothing good is happening, and there’s no one cheering you on. All anyone seems to notice is the negative in me. I’m rarely uplifted or encouraged. Instead, I go through the same routine: wake up, go to school, go home, sleep—repeat. It feels like my life is stuck in a loop of pain and emptiness. I think a lot—more than most people probably realize. My head is full of ideas and thoughts, but I don’t really have anyone to share them with. I’ve said before that I’m creative, but even that’s hard to say confidently, because I don’t really know who I am. I don’t have a clear label for myself. I feel lost. I think to myself a lot in my head, but when it’s time to speak or write, it’s like the words get stuck. I want to explain myself, to be understood—but it’s like I can’t fully get it out. That kind of confusion creates frustration. You’re trying to figure out who you are in a world that’s already made you feel like you’re behind.Something I’ve thought about is how hard it is to let go. Growing up means losing people, moments, feelings, and places that once made you feel safe or seen. When you form a bond with someone or something, you think it’ll be part of your life forever. So when that bond breaks, it hurts deeply. It leaves a disturbance in your soul. But I’ve realized that letting go doesn’t always mean loss—it can also mean moving on from people or situations that no longer help you grow. Even though it still hurts, sometimes it’s necessary.I’m 15, and even though that might sound young, I’ve already had to carry a lot. I’ve noticed that I forget a lot of things—sometimes I can’t even remember what I ate or did the day before. Maybe that’s because I don’t eat regularly. My mom isn’t home much, and we don’t really have groceries. She doesn’t get food stamps, so I can’t even go get food myself. My older brother is starting to get his life together—he finally got his license and a car at 20 after a long struggle. He’s graduating soon, and I’m proud of him because I know what he’s been through. I see him hanging with his friends and slowly building a life, and while I’m happy for him, I can’t help but wonder when that kind of progress will happen for me.School is a whole different challenge. I’ve missed a lot of it—sometimes because I didn’t have a ride, other times because I couldn’t wake up in time. Since I was a kid, I’ve never really learned to wake up and get ready on my own. Now my mom just expects me to do it without help, even when she doesn’t come home. My little brother isn’t home either, and my older brother is doing his own thing—which I don’t blame him for. So most of the time, it’s just me. I don’t have friends. I don’t hang out with anyone. I don’t have a partner. I mostly sit at home, alone or with my brother, with nowhere to go and nothing to do. My grades are suffering badly, and this is the second year it’s happened. My teachers are worried I won’t graduate. And the truth is, I’m worried too.

The scariest part is not knowing what comes next. If I do graduate, then what? I don’t have friends, I don’t have a plan. Am I just going to work, come home, and repeat that cycle forever? Especially with everything going on in the world—people like Donald Trump, the hate, the tension—it’s hard to imagine a future that feels good or hopeful. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know what I can do. And I hate feeling this way—confused, alone, and unsure if anything will ever change.

*2nd draft*

Growing up, life felt like a wave I was always trying to stand in—but never taught how to swim. I’ve faced things that felt unbearable, like I had no control, no help, and no say in how things went. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to deal with stuff on my own, and it feels like no one really cares how I feel or what I think. Most people see the worst in me—they don’t try to lift me up or believe in me. And after a while, it’s like I started to believe them too.

I think a lot, but I don’t always know how to explain myself. I think to myself alot in my head but when it’s time to get my thoughts out, the words freeze. I don’t know what kind of person I am. Sometimes I consider myself creative, because I have all these ideas and thoughts, but they’re stuck with nowhere to go. I don’t really have anyone to talk to who genuinely listens—and even if I did, I don’t know if I’d know how to open up the right way.

I live in a house and a community where I’ve always felt out of place. Most days feel the same: wake up, try to get to school, come home, go to sleep, repeat. I’ve missed a lot of school this year, mostly because I couldn’t get a ride or couldn’t get myself up. Since I was a kid, I’ve never learned how to wake up and get going on my own, and i personally feel like my mom has always just expected me to figure it out. Sometimes she’s not home, and my little brother isn’t either. My older brother is grown now—he’s out trying to live his life, and I get that. But it means I’m left alone most of the time. I don’t have friends, don’t hang out with anyone, don’t have a girlfriend. It’s just me, and that can feel heavy sometimes.

My grades are cooked. Teachers are worried I won’t graduate, and deep down, so am I. This is the second year things have gone this way, and I don’t know how to fix it. I feel like I’m not trying hard enough, or maybe I just don’t have it in me. Like im not smart enough I don’t feel smart. I don’t feel motivated. It’s hard to care when you don’t feel seen. I ask myself all the time: what am I even going to do after high school or just in life period? Work? Go home? Repeat the same life with no direction? The world feels broken—and I don’t know where I fit in it.

I’ve also been dealing with memories—or the lack of them. Sometimes I feel like I can’t remember parts of my life unless I really sit down and force myself to. I even forget what I ate today or what I did yesterday. It’s not because I’m lazy—it’s because I don’t have consistency. My mom doesn’t really buy groceries or cook, and there’s no food stamps, so I can’t go get food on my own. I feel forgotten even in the little things.

My brother is finally getting somewhere. He got his license and a car at 20 after struggling a lot. He still doesn’t have a stable job, but he has ways to get money and people who look out for him sometimes. He’s even graduating now—And I’m proud of him. I know what he’s been through, and I see a little hope in his story, even if I don’t feel it in mine yet.

There’s also stuff I never really say out loud about my dad. I haven’t gone deep into it, but the absence is loud. Whether it’s his presence, what he didn’t do, or what he could’ve been—it’s part of the silence I carry. I think it affects me more than I admit.

When it comes to love and partners, I’ve felt confused. I’ve liked people before, tried talking, tried hanging out. But I get nervous. I want to feel cared for, wanted, appreciated—but I don’t always know how to build that. I’ve never really had someone truly see me for me. I know I want a partner, someone to connect with, someone who listens—but how do you even get there when you barely know how to open up?

One of the hardest parts of everything is letting go. I tell myself I should learn to, but I don’t want to. I get attached easily—to the smallest signs of affection or care. Maybe it’s because I don’t get that often. Even when something or someone only gives me a little love, I hold onto it tight like it’s everything. And when that connection fades, it feels like a piece of me goes with it. But I’m learning that letting go isn’t about pretending it didn’t matter. It’s about making space for something better—even if I can’t see it yet.

And sometimes, I wonder—if I deserve love and care and support, why don’t I have it? Why hasn’t it come yet? Does that mean I’m not actually worthy?

But I’m starting to realize this: just because I haven’t received something doesn’t mean I don’t deserve it. I’ve been in places and around people who couldn’t give me what I needed, but that doesn’t mean I’m unworthy. It means I’ve been surviving in a world that doesn’t know how to love people like me yet. People who are still figuring themselves out. People who feel too much and say too little. People who keep showing up—even when it hurts.

I don’t have all the answers. I don’t even know where I’m headed. But I know I’m still here. I’m still breathing. I’m still becoming.