Fan-freaking-tastic

During my high school years - years plagued with little sleep and many activities - I learned that when someone asks me, "How's it going?"  they don't really want to hear me complain, "I'm tired." Then I'd follow up with some explanation as to why I was so tired: "I was up til eleven last night (hahaha...remember those days when 11pm was late?) and I woke up at 5 to do my explications. And I've got symphony tonight so I won't be to bed again until late."

What was the point of that? Complaining, I mean.  To make me look tough?

Fail.

No one wants to hear that.  Ya know how I know? Because whenever a classmate would tell me how tired they are or list a myriad of obligations that impede upon sleeping time, I would stop listening, roll my eyes, and   wish they were a little more positive about life.

Thus I decided to respond to inquiries of my day with how I think life really is: awesomely fabulous.  (Or some other word shot up with enthusiasm.) Life really is terrific. We don't need to dwell on the rough patches. "Don't confuse local cloud coverage with global darkness."  That and responding with bottled enthusiasm usually cheers up the grocer or banker or fellow student casually asking about my day.

Like today when a girl returned my call and offered the customary greeting with asking me, "How are you?" to which I responded,
"So fan-freaking-tastic......squared!!!!!!!!!"  <--notice the excessive amount of exclamation

I lied.

Girl on the phone: "Wow! That's awesome! I wish my day were that good."
Little did she know that approximately two seconds prior to her call, tears were running into my ears and my hand was not doing a decent job sponging it up.

It's been rough. I've cried more over the past month than I've cried in the past four years.  I might be able to blame it on hormones, but I don't think so.  I have been, and still am, dissecting emotions in hopes to get to the bottom of this.

Oh. *realization* This is what it feels like to be broken-hearted.
This sick feeling with the bitter taste in my mouth  is what it is to feel nervous. 
When my tongue is pressed against the roof of my mouth and my front teeth it means I am holding back.

I've examined what it feels like to feel hopeless, useless, and utterly ugly. I've felt alone and lonely (they are two separate feelings).  I've felt stuck, stagnant, afraid, distanced, impatient, fatigued, powerless, un-cool, anxious, betrayed, forgotten, replaced, insignificant, boring, and even embarrassed.

And recently I've learned what it feels like to feel all those things at the same time: culminating in a few nights of seizure-like crying, burying my face in hummus, ice cream, and grilled cheese sandwiches (though not all at the same time). I've let my bed sheets slowly peel off the bed (including the fitted sheet, and that's just plain uncomfortable).  The dirty clothes have advanced across floor and conquered my room the same way Australia conquers the middle-east in a game of Risk. I've been gaining weight and losing sleep. I seem to have forgotten that I can instigate activities with the contacts in my phone instead of waiting around like a loser for someone to invite me to something. I've become more self-absorbed than the typical teenager. I can't decide what I want.

It's not quite depression, but I can kinda see it from here.

I'm wondering where on earth this all came from. WHAT THE FREAK? I am not usually one to cry.  I typically have a zest for life and feel on top of the world and have an abundance of friends. How long has all of this been building up? It's like I'm suddenly in a big ol' whole and I think I can get myself out but I'm still trying to figure out how the heck I wound up down here.

But...yeah...I'm just fan-freaking-tastic.

...squared.