You should play Rachel's Lullaby by Dandelion hands whilst reading this.

This sucks. Not a lot, but enough for me to stare at a wall for two hours thinking about it. I'm 15 now. That's old- not old in perspective of life but in terms of youth. Like the cut off age for being young is, to me, 21. That gives me 6 years to do something I guess. I feel like I need to SOMETHING, but I don't know what. I feel disappointed with myself.

I'm so tired now like I want to sleep, but I just lay motionless and awake. I think I might sleep but I can't tell. It's all the same now, sleeping and not. My mind is working at its best at night, totally dead at day.

I'm tired of the same fucking routine every day. School, home, bed, school, home, bed. I feel like this isn't real, or I'm a wasting my chance. I just do what I have to do, mindless, mundane, pointless bullshit. I waste my time remembering the types of respiration for a subject I don't want to continue for a job I don't even care about.

I hate my body. As if being a teenager couldn't suck more, we have to look good. My own mum weighs less than me- the insult to injury.

I feel this sense of responsibility now I'm 15. Like 14, I didn't have to be serious, I didn't have to care. I could live in my world of books and art and cartoons and not care. But 15 I feel like I have to leave that all behind, burn the books, put away my pencil, turn off the TV and be. Be in a world where I live the life I'm destined to. University. Husband. Job. Kids. I feel like I have to do well. and it's killing me.