Why you always runnin' in place?

April is a liberating time.
I've never explained it here, but I truly despise the month of March. It is simply the worst month in the calendar. Everything bad happens in March. March is a living hell for me every year. It's always something different. This year it was a suicide note and an unfinished attempt. And yet no one is worried about me. No one thinks there's anything wrong with me. No, I'm wrong about that--It's that no one thinks I'm worth saving.

I isolated myself for nearly the entirety of the month of March, and the most of a reaction I got was a shrugged shoulder. Wow. I really matter to people so much, don't I? Enough that they sit on the other side of the room when they know I'm depressed and need a friend. Enough that no one checks up on me. Enough that the only people who make eye contact with me are teachers and managers, who are paid to interact with me.

I don't really have a specific purpose to this blog post, it's more of a place to vent my thoughts in a place where I know no one will read them.

Understand that I've been dreaming about senior prom since I was in middle school. I've always imagined getting all dressed up in the perfect dress and just having the best night out with friends of my high school career. The one thing I didn't expect was that I wouldn't have a date. Right now is a very critical time for prom plans--I need to find a dress, first of all. And if I don't even have a date, well then.
My options are either to stay home and wallow in my misery, or go alone and wallow in my isolation and have no one even notice that I exist. At this point, staying home and missing out on the once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity-that-I've-been-dreaming-about-for-years sounds a lot better than going alone and leaving after 20 minutes and crying the entire way home.
Everything has been ruined.

I just...want one last good memory to share...before I never see them again...

Everyone thinks the things I worry about are trivial. They tell me things like "It's not that big of a deal, I'm sure going by yourself will still be fun." You. Don't. Understand. I know myself much better than you ever have, and I know that if I don't have a date for prom, it will fucking ruin the rest of my senior year (Which is only six weeks now, by the way). I'm excluded enough as it is. This will only reinforce the fact that I'm a loner and no one wants me around.
This whole "anxiety" thing isn't fun. It's not a game I play for attention. I legitimately worry about these things, even if I KNOW they're not that important. I become obsessed, and if things don't turn out right, I panic.

I always have all these romantic ideas of what my future holds, and then it doesn't happen. Nothing ever happens. It always happens to someone else. I'm not allowed to be happy. I'm not allowed to be loved. I'm apparently not INTERESTING enough to be loved. I'm a stick-in-the-mud with one too many complaints about the cards she was dealt from the beginning. No one likes that type of person. Everyone keeps saying "just wait, it'll get better," and I'm so fucking sick of waiting. Is it too fucking much to ask? When will it be my time? When will I finally be happy? I'll tell you when: Never. Because some people were just meant to be unhappy right from the start, and I guess I'm just one of those people because my happiness is always temporary. Always.

The day everyone finally understands what I'm saying will be the same day that I kill myself. But no one will take the time to listen and figure that out before it's too late. Not that it matters. You know, dying really is a trivial thing, isn't it? I mean, the only thing that happens to you is that you stay dead for eternity with no reversal option. No big deal, right? So, you know, it doesn't matter if you're too late.

I'm not wanted here. I have to scream for attention, and even then, half the time, I'm overlooked. I'm invisible. Insignificant. I don't exist. I could disappear off the face of the Earth and not a single person would go looking for me. Especially not the one person who I want to look for me.