The Disadvantages of Being a Wallflower. (a review)

The Perks of Being a Wallflower is probably one of my favorite books. I think I have read it three times in the last two years? I read it a lot when I was in my not-so-happy stage because it was very relatable and it calmed me down. 

Tonight I went and saw the movie. Overall I thought it was very well done. The acting was just awkward enough that it fit the overall tone of the book. Stephen Chbosky directed so obviously it wasn't going to be bad. 

Basically I think if you have read this book, go see it because it's not very different from the book at all. If you have not read it, I suggest reading it first or you may be a bit lost. Secondly, I recommend not seeing it until you're mentally stable enough to handle it. 

I've been completely fine for like a year now and I still had to leave at the end. Maybe it's just me. Maybe i'm having an off day. Or maybe the acting was just that good. 


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"I think that if I ever have kids, and they are upset, I won't tell them that people are starving in China or anything like that because it wouldn't change the fact that they were upset. And even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn't really change the fact that you have what you have. Good and bad."

-The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Fruity Rant (note this is not a serious entry)

I have a serious problem with restaurants and stores that sell gross mushy looking fruit. I feel like that should be a health code violation or something. Why the hell would you buy something that is honestly just bad? I mean, I'm obviously an exception because I was starving and it was convenient but im almost certain my stomach will be pissed off at me later... 

I hereby swear that if I see gross fruit like this at any type of vendor/store/etc, I will personally take the fruit and throw it in the faces of the people who put it there. 


I have no inspirational quotes for this entry except for this,

"Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana." 

Thank you for your time. 

My Mind is a Washing Machine.

Let me tell you a little bit about this stupid bitch of a time called my panic attacks. Basically the whole thing is one giant cycle. It doesn't stop once it starts. So I literally am just spinning like clothes in a washing machine. If you could see my thoughts, you'd get dizzy. It starts with anxiety about anything really nothing relevant or important or worth getting anxious over. Just happens. Then comes the frustration that this keeps happening and that I really don't know how to stop it. The frustration leads to leads to wanting to reach out to someone and ask for help but then leads to feeling like no one wants to help. This leads to even more frustration. Which then goes back to anxiety. 

It doesn't stop. it's a great time. it pisses me off. I literally cannot get motivated to do anything. I cannot focus or even think clearly. So I'll sleep until it goes away. Then I will wake up and feel better. So i'll do this now. 


Goodnight. 


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“Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom.”
- Søren Kierkegaard,

We're all Mad Here

It has come to my attention that you can apparently have anxiety attacks while your sleeping. I ran out of pills and so I haven't taken them in about three days. At this point in time, I am the definition of mad. 

        It's amazing how well this medication actually works. A lot of doctors try and steer you clear of medication because it really does change your personality completely. I am a prime example of this. I'm sitting in class right now writing this because I cannot focus on anything. My mind almost feels like jello,  nothing is making sense and im extremely numb this morning. 
        When I'm on my meds, I'm a pretty bubbly person. I have the mood swings of a normal teenage girl but nothing super unusual. For awhile while I was taking my meds, I could have sworn that I was actually getting better. But as you can see from this post. I am not. Medication masks the symptoms. It does not solve the problem. 
       That seems really sad if you think about it but in all honesty I'd rather mask my symptoms, and people not think i'm insane rather than cry in class everyday and pass out for no reason. All in all, I just wanna take my meds. It sucks that I have to be completely different until I take them. I'm so different some people won't have anything to do with me until I take my pills again because I guess they're afraid of me when I breakdown. It sucks that very few people can handle me at my worst. 

Summary: Medication and being normal > No medication and being crazy. 
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“Are you crazy? It's a common phrase, I know. But it means something particular to me: the tunnels, the security screens, the plastic forks, the shimmering, ever-shifting borderline that like all boundaries beckons and asks to be crossed. I do not want to cross it again.” 
― Susanna Kaysen, Girl, Interrupted

August 4th

There were tornados everywhere. I probably could have escaped from them but I didn't want to? For some reason I conquered my fear of storms? Which doesn't make any sense to me. Then I was at a carnival type thing, but again it was a huge carnival and I was alone. But more alone then last nights dream, I could steal things, and walk through people and no one would even flinch. I was a ghost. Im not sure if that means I have no purpose here or maybe I'm actually dead and just chillin, or maybe I'm just super alone. There was also slight cheating but not as much as before, more of just friendly conversation. So maybe that means I'm feeling better about that? I dunno. still food though. carnival food. 




hm. i don't know.

August 3rd

I haven't posted in awhile because well I stopped sleeping all together. But the nightmares, i'm afraid, have returned. Last night took all my fears and worries to a whole new level. I wont rewrite the whole dream but basically give you the main details and what they mean..


Huge party that stretched across the length of two football fields. (always being alone no matter how many people are there)


a fight or riot broke out at the party (the negativity in the media is killing me.)


"they" cut circles in my arms. all over my arms. (im in pain)


food, lots of food. (i hate being fat)


cheating (worried i'm gonna lose him) 


things aren't going very well. I feel funny a lot. I like being home more than I should. I just wanna stop growing up i guess.

July 14th (hate, hate, hate)

Last night was all about criticism. I'm in a park of some sort, but there's a party going on. People from high school are there. But every time I see one of them, they point and laugh at me. Then I'm sitting on a bench and a group of three girls who I will not name come up and surround me. They tell me how ugly and fat I am. They laugh and spit at me. I run away unable to fight back. Then I'm at a baseball game where my Dad is playing baseball. He is up to bat and my grandma, my mom, and I are standing right behind him. He gets a strike, turns around to see us, and yells to get out of here. I run out of the park towards a tree across the street. I climb the tree to the highest branch and watch the world go beneath me. There is fighting. Animals are dying. People are screaming and crying. I wake up.