mindlessly existing

[emma elizabeth logan]

[emma elizabeth logan]

Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to have someone to talk to. Not like this. Not like, me sitting here with a stupid pen and paper and dumping out the contents of my head. I wonder what it’s like to really trust someone enough to tell them the things that are going on. More than once, I’ve looked Alice in the eye and thought to myself, “It would be so easy to tell her everything.” But would it? Everything seems better in theory. Once it’s put to practice, everything goes to shit. If I talked to Ali, she’d probably think I’m insane. I guess, she’d have every right to think that as well.

So, I’m back at school. Fifth year. This is supposed to be an important one. I’ve got those stupid OWL exams. My teachers are already frustrated with me. I refuse to put forward the effort they want me to. What’s the point? I hate it here. I hate school. I hate these people. I hate sleeping in the stupid Slytherin dormitory and listening to the girls say horrible, awful things. And then, they turn to me and give me this look that begs me to agree with everything they say. Instead, I let them down. I let everyone down. I guess you could say, that’s what I’m best at. Give me your expectations and I will shatter them into a million pieces. What can I say, it’s a gift.

I’m on the quidditch team this year. That’s a pretty huge improvement for me in terms of enthusiasm. Dad’s proud. I am a good flier so, I give myself that much credit. Who knows, maybe I’ll even make some friends because of being on the team. I feel bad for anyone stupid enough to become my friend though. They’d be in for heaping piles of bullshit, for sure. See, that’s what’s great about me though! I know my life’s a pile of shit. I’m not in denial. I’m not like any of those stupid, overly perfect girls who are all so falsely happy and who pretend everything’s wonderful. I’m messed up and I get that. I know who I am.

My head’s killing me. And Severus Snape keeps shooting me weird glances across the library. I think I’m gonna call it a day and go to bed now. Goodnight oh precious journal of stupid, worthless secrets. I’ll be seeing you soon.
-Emma

[emma elizabeth logan]

Sometimes, I wonder if anybody actually understands anyone else. Most days, it seems like we're all still struggling to make a good acquaintance with ourselves. How can we possibly be expected to know anyone else fully? I like to pretend I've got it all so figured out. In reality, it's like everyone's speaking a foreign language and I'm desperately trying to keep up.
-Emma

[emma elizabeth logan]

Do you ever feel like a ghost? I mean, invisible to the point where you run into walls because you’re genuinely beginning to think you could stroll right through them. That’s how things have been since school has started again. I feel like I could go mute if not for Ali and Severus talking to me whenever I see them. Friends. They are my friends. My sister and a boy who’s like me. Those are the people in my club, the people who can understand my kind. What kind am I though?

I’ve been spending a lot of time in the second floor ladies lavatories lately. Everyone else avoids that bathroom because of Myrtle. I don’t mind her though and I really don’t think she minds me anymore. She’s been leaving me alone lately. I guess she figured out I’m not a big talker and what else is there to do when you’re dead and haunting a bathroom? At first, she’d just stare at me for the entire duration of my stay. I’d sit there and smoke cigarettes and stare back with my usual empty eyes. I wonder if other people see in me the things I feel. I can stare into someone with this intensity that usually scares people off, but I only do it because I can’t seem to look away.

When you’re a little kid and you’re afraid of the dark, most kids hide under their covers to get away from it. When I was younger, I stayed awake all night for a week because I was afraid of the dark. I couldn’t rip my gaze away. I stare my fears head on. So, every day when I walk into that mess of people and emotions and lives, I stare them head on. I won’t ever be like them, feel like them, understand like them. They are what I am supposed to be and I can’t handle the fact that I’m not ever going to meet that expectation.

Expectations. They make my stomach ache. They fill me with a rebellious need to not care, to walk away empty-handed from life on purpose. I am everyone’s failed expectation and I’m used to it. But am I my own failed expectation? Did that even make sense?

The nightmares have been back. They’re just… You know when you’re running and you feel this intense adrenaline rush like you’re being chased? You feel dizzy, light-headed, disoriented. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. All you know is you need to do what you’re doing and there’s no time to process. That’s how the nightmares are. Each one is an intricately designed adrenaline rush, a panic attack, a mind fuck.

I don’t wake up screaming. I wake up holding my breath, just waiting to release or draw in the oxygen that I need. And then, I lie there. I lie awake and staring into the ceiling as if it will confess some kind of secret answer to all my troubles. I feel tears begging to leak out of my desperate eyes, but I refrain from doing so because I’m in a room full of the worst kinds of girls you could ever possibly imagine. I just hold it all in. I hold everything that’s ever bothered me inside because I can’t afford to explode. If I did now, there would be no putting the pieces back together. I’d be a mess.

I know there’s only one way out. I’m not ready yet though. I would be hurting Alice more than I’ve ever hurt anyone else before. She’s the only one who matters enough to make an impact. Aside from her and Severus, I doubt anyone else would even notice that I was gone. My parents would get the letter a day or two later and they’d cry and put on a show, but they’d know. They would know deep down inside that it would be what was best for me. It is what’s best for me. It’s what needs to happen.