I feel like the only things that make me happy right now are fantasies. The only way my brain could feel happy is when I imagine living a different, perfect life. It's not real. What's real is this: I'm a nobody, and I nobody cares or loves me. Except possibly my parents, and of course, God. I imagine being with different guys and picturing how it would feel like to have their lips locked on mine. And being wrapped around their arms. I don't know if it's my hormones, probably is 90% of the time given that I'm an 18 year old child. Being kissed probably feels a lot better in real life. Better than the most lurid image my sick brain can come up with. I don't know why I want to be kissed so bad. I also want to be uber wealthy. Like Chloe, or Kim Tee. Oh wow. The life without bounds. Most of my problems result because of money. My parents aren't rich. We're middle class. Probably my grandfather's rich. But he's not that rich. Not in the sophisticated way I want. Why is it that I want all these things? I feel empty. Because I feel like these things would make me happy. I live vicariously through movies. I imagine myself as a smoking hot genius wealthy knockout. Everything in her life is perfect. The top of the university's elite. Probably going to go places. Internationally known. Bestselling author. Perfect body, perfect face. Everyone's jealous. Everyone wants to be her. She doesn't look like she studies every day. No eye bags, no stress-induced acne. I'm just so frustrated. I can't put all my feelings into words, and even if I try, what's the point? It's not like it's going to help me feel better. I just rant and rant and rant to oblivion. I don't have anything interesting to say. Because my life is just as boring as the average socially awkward teenager. I feel like I have no future. One reunion comes, I'll be the "could have been something but didn't". I hate my life. I hate everything that has led me here. --- The problem with me is that I am no longer excited about learning. To me, it's become something routine, and routine is never exciting. In fact, I run away from it almost every day that it's frightening. What would 6th grade me think about this? I bet I was already a procrastinator. But it didn't really show because it was almost too easy to get high grades back then. Something my brain was used to. Education here in UP isn't what my brain is used to. That's why I hate it. It's a struggle. Why do I hate struggle, when it's necessary for growth?