The Fascinating Life of a Sad Teenager

Way less sex, drugs and rock and roll than the generations that came before us.


Once again I’m sat alone contemplating my existence. So many people have said that haven’t they, but what to they mean by it? Do they mean that they’re wondering whether they like the person that they exist as, and they’re evaluating their existence in a healthy and probably very normal way? Or are they thinking, do I actually want to exist? Or maybe they’re even thinking about the fact ‘existence’ comes and goes so quickly we are hardly able to notice it slipping through our fingers. For me, contemplation is both a positive and a negative of my personality.

I spend a lot of time thinking and therefore over-thinking every aspect of my daily life, regular or not. This is what makes it a weakness; the constant criticism I haul myself through every day, the criticism that sometimes literally hits like like a train in the middle of a history class when I remember that that morning I’d looked in the mirror and seen the empurpled bags that hung under my eyes like bruises - and I begin to panic and hope nobody will notice I haven’t slept.

 The positive however is that in all that thinking I sometimes find something I actually do like about myself, or something to look forward to and that gives me just enough energy to garner the courage to get out of bed in the morning. And yes, it does take courage for a lot of us.

But back to the contemplation; for me it’s the idea that my existence doesn’t really matter to me, and the battle with myself to make it matter, because I feel like it should. That’s what I hate about society, the expectation that we should all enjoy and cherish life. What this idea doesn’t do is give people the opportunity to realise that it’s actually normal to not cherish life and existence sometimes, and though it might be that you feel this way because of a mental illness, it doesn’t make you wrong or weird or a freak!

I know that people often just jump on the bandwagon and blame society for the failings in our own lives, but the inability to accept people for who they are is what makes our society so drenched in mental health issues, pretending to be someone we’re not is really not that out of the ordinary and that makes me so so sad. 


It’s 2am and I had a perfect night. It’s strange because even when your heart is broken you find ways to cope and often you aren’t actually ok but pretending you are is so convincing even to yourself that you actually believe you might be ok. Never been a big drinker. Having an alcoholic in the close family does that to you. You start to resent them, and alcohol just becomes this evil thing which ruins people’s lives.

But then sometimes you have a drink and you feel better because your insecurities just float away and maybe that’s why people become alcoholics in the first place and then you have that fight with yourself as to whether to blame them or help them. Anyway tonight took my mind of the abyss of heartbreak I seem to be drowning in.

I’m grateful for my best friend. If she didn’t drag me out on nights like this I’d never leave the house. It’s people like her who keep people like me alive.