I feel like I'm drowning in the blackness of my room; #3.

Dear Sophiaboo,
I feel so alone and lost right now. I'm so sad. So sad. The same old crap; feeling bad for myself or for my life or whatever I'm grasping or living. Same old. Nothing changes because whenever it starts to rain, the feelings I've managed to push into the corners of my mind, surfaces. Rainy days aren't my thing. All I did today was eat, stay in bed, and watch We Got Married. I don't know why I have this sadness buried deep down inside. I don't think I've fully opened up about it; not even to myself. Maybe I don't even know why I carry such melancholy around. Is it everything that's happened to me throughout life? There must have been one big impact that crushed my soul. Even before Steven Kang. Even before Jayj.Maybe before California. Maybe even before Virginia. I can't seem to pinpoint it and I know I must. In order to get over whatever it is, I need to find out the source and confront myself and get rid of it somehow. Like chewing gum. Pop it in, savor it, understand it, get bored of it, and finally spit it out. Disposing it and walking away, leaving yet another fraction to the gum patterned sidewalks of Memory Lane. Make it stop. Make it go away. Make the rain stop trickling down my windowpanes. I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME. WHAT THE FUCK IS MY FUCKING PROBLEM, SOPHIA?! EVEN AFTER THE LETTER I GOT. I CAN'T DO IT. I CAN'T BE HAPPY. I CAN'T LIVE IN THE MOMENT. Help me. I'm happy for a day, but when the clouds gather, I break down. Am I mental? Am I sick? I keep saying I'm simple-minded, but I'm so complex. I'm like some 17x17x17 Rubik's Cube. Nearly impossible to figure out. Heck, I can't even solve a 3x3x3 one. I ramble, ramble, ramble, ramble on. I bitch and bitch and bitch and cry and bitch some more and complain and complain and whine and bitch and cry. I'm pathetic. I'm fucked up. Nothing's wrong with my life. It's the rain. It gives me an excuse to complain some more. That's whats it right? I don't live in some big nice house, but I have my own room and a roof over my head. I have my decorative wall and my humongous Where the Wild Things Are poster. I have ice cream in the fridge. I have a living mom and dad. I have someone that isn't even related to me by blood who works late at night so that she can set some food down on the table for my dad and me. Fuck. I'm not cold. I'm not smelly, I'm not dirty, I don't have AIDS, I'm not starving, I have an education, I have a laptop, I have clothes, I have fucking over 17 pairs of jeans(but then again I only wear like half of that), I have a hippo pillow, I have indoor plumbing for God's sake. I'm trying to think of everything I have, but I'm not satisfied. At all. I'm greedy. I'm needy. Selfish. Self centered. Somebody, something needs to pull me out of this hole labeled "dysphoria". People come and pull me up to my knees, but I'm stuck and I sink back again. Again and again. Maybe I really am fucking bipolar. Maybe I need therapy sessions. Maybe I'm insane. Maybe I'm mad. Maybe I have a disease.

I can't do this anymore. Make the rain go away. I'll be fine. I'll be myself. This isn't who I am. I'm not a sad person. I'm the one always smiling. Always cheery. Always foolish. Always childish.

I'm done. I call it a night. Rain will be gone by tomorrow.
Goodnight.