Just when

When did I become this person that is crippled by fear and my own self loathing?
I remember being brave and fearless as a kid, but what if I'm remembering it wrong? What if I have always been this person but I've been blind to it.
I don't want this to be me. I don't want to be the kind of person that frets over everything I can't control.
I can't do this.

Can't do right for wrong.

How many times do you have to tell yourself something before you believe it?
How many times do I have to sit on my bed rocking back and forth and trying to dry my eyes , telling myself it is okay before I believe it?
I am tired.
I don't remember the last time that I slept properly. All I can think at night is how useless I am. As soon as this starts swirling I suddenly feel so isolated. All alone, and like there is nobody to talk to. I know that I'm not alone, I have some amazing and beautiful friends to whom I can turn, some that probably even understand exactly what it is I am going through. But I don't want to be told that I should cheer up, that things will get better or any of the other horrible clichés that seem to be all anyone can say in a situation such as this. They don't help, if anything they make me feel worse.
I just wish that I could feel useful. Or even just good at something. I wish that whenever I looked in the mirror I could be at least content with what I saw there. I don't want to be thinking hateful things about myself, who I am, or how I look whenever I do. I want to be able to believe in myself and to feel like I don't have to be insecure any more. I don't want to look at other girls whenever I'm out and think that they are so much skinnier or prettier than I am. Or look at anyone successful and think that they are so much more intelligent and luckier than I am. So on and so forth... All of these thoughts hurt and they make me want to cry and curl up in bed and never leave it.
I guess I just want to be normal. But what is normal? Shouldn't I be aiming for extraordinary? But again, what is extraordinary?
      Nothing makes sense.
      It's all a mystery.
      This is a labyrinth, there is no way out.
      I am lost.
      So freaking lost.
      Forever lost.

Helga Hufflepuff

For any recluse out there that doesn't know a thing about Harry Potter, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry split their students into four houses named after the four founders of Hogwarts.

Godric Gryffindor decided to teach brave and daring students.
Salazar Slytherin decided to teach only the ones with the purest magical ancestry.
Rowena Ravenclaw decided that she would teach the sharp of wit, intelligence and creativeness.
Helga Hufflepuff decided that she would teach them all.

Now, people of the Harry Potter fandom usually sneer and look down upon Hufflepuff as a house. However, this is something that I have pondered from time to time.

People judge Helga Hufflepuff because she said that she would teach them all. They jump to the conclusion that this must mean that she just gets lumped with whatever students are leftover from the other houses. Now, this is wrong. Almost every Harry Potter fan is wrong.

It isn't that she gets the leftovers. What she means is that she will accept any student that wants to learn and won't judge them for who they are. Hufflepuffs can still be brave, intelligent, pureblooded, and anything else in between. But they won't be judged by any of it. They will always be seen for who they are and not for a single defining quality like the other three houses.

Looking at it like this, I think that actually, Hufflepuff is the best house to be sorted into.

You know what?

I'm tired. No, I'm exhausted. I'm living my life in the fantasy world in my head trying to plan and write a book because I can't face the truth.

Reality sucks balls. Why is it so hard to be happy? Why must I feel depressed all the time? Why do I feel like I have to be wary and suspicious whenever anything good happens, like it's going to be snatched away cruelly?

Depression is hard. Especially when people scoff and mock you for saying that's how you're feeling. Excuse me, but you aren't living in my body. You don't know how I'm feeling in my head or in my heart. All you get to see is the portion I decide to show the world.

So I'm living in my head, creating these new lands, and characters, and species, and worldly woes because there I won't be told to cheer up and stop being such a miserable git. Do you not realise if it were really as simple as turning that frown upside down I would have done something about it by now?!

It's getting exhausting though, keeping up this charade and maintaining all of these masks of happiness. I need to do something about this because I will not be beaten down again.

Dear Father,

You don't like me all that much. I am nothing for you to be proud of in your eyes, and you would rather pretend that I don't actually exist as your daughter than acknowledge me as such. Yes, I know this. I remember you getting pissed off on the day that I got my GCSE results because I didn't get any A*'s. My cousin Alice did though didn't she? I saw the look on your face when she was telling you what her results were. I also heard you whine about how my marks where lower than hers to mum later on that day - was only in the next room you know. I know that you're jealous of your brother's family of overachievers. If you'd bothered to look at my results properly you might have noticed that one of my A's was just one mark from being an A*, but that still wouldn't be good for you would it? I'm not good enough for you am I?

You left your old relationship because the woman you were with didn't want children and you did. You regret that decision now though I bet, huh? Is that partly the reason why you sought her out and started talking to her again recently? You know what is the real crusher thought father? The fact that you treat my mum's children and grandchildren better than you treat me and you dance that fact around in front of my face. They aren't yours, they never will be, because they aren't blood related. But I am. However, I get "no," disgusted looks, or silence. Whereas you can't do enough for them, even when you're complaining we're short on money. I don't begrudge them anything at all, I love me brother and sister. I hate you for the difference of treatment though.

You are fat, lazy, and ignorant. You wonder why me and mum don't want to spend time with you? Well it's because all we get when we do is silence, all you do is sit there falling asleep. Or you sit there not saying anything and when spoken to all you respond with are grunts and/or dirty looks. Why would we want stay in the same room as that?

You're a horrible father. Not the worst in the world, I'll give you that. But far from being the best. You're selfish and treat, not only me, but as well, like shit. I can't do much about you right now though, except play dirty. So I do. Yep, it was me that pinched your lamp when mine broke and put it back when yours had stopped working too. Yes, I do make a point to switch off the computer when you leave it unattended during a session - serves you right for leaping up and suddenly deciding that you had to use it instead of your laptop after you overheard me telling mum there were I needed to do on it. I put sugar in your coffee every chance I get, I steal your cereal and yoghurt, and I chipped your favourite mug. And yes, I purposely put screamo and heavy metal on really loud in the morning when you're still sleeping in the morning. Mainly because I love to see the look on your face because you hate that style of music, but also because the lyrics about hate are exactly the kind of things I will yell in your face on the day you eventually make me snap.

You might be my father by blood, but not at heart. I would rather have a father that abandoned me when I was younger than have you. Maybe that way mum would be happier also, rather than being stuck with your lazy ass.

I hate you.

Your passive aggressive daughter.