Why Does My Head Bang Against The Wall, Every Day?

There’s just something about this situation that I can’t identify. I just know that it’s really difficult. There’s just something about it that is really challenging. It makes me very angry.

The head bangs against the wall are constant. I know this because I keep banging my head against the wall–against my pillow, head against a wall of a chair–against the back of the bed. Each time, there is just something about this experience that is just annoying. It makes me angry.

The words that were in my head are:  What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t give a shit about what other people think. . . . This is not my home. Why is this happening to me? I don’t know.

This isn’t the life I chose.

But the words of an angry, bitter and frustrated young woman are, no doubt, coming from her brain, or else she would not feel the need to write them, and they could not be written if she did not feel the need to feel angry.

You don’t have to like it, I guess, but these comments can only be read as an indictment of a life that is filled with so many mistakes and disappointments, and a life that is filled with so much anger, resentment and bitterness. You cannot read them as anything other than an indictment of herself.

Why Does My Head Bang Against The Wall, Every Day?

The next day, I sat up in bed, and began to cry. I would go over the days that she had been writing about in her journal.  I would listen carefully and hear that voice that was clearly inside me, that my brain was filling up with, and saying  “this is no way to live.”

I have no idea what caused it. The pain I had inflicted on myself through my actions was the only answer.

This is the point of no return. You cannot stop that voice in your head, because you cannot stop the anger that that voice represents, even if you try so hard.  I am no longer a teenager.  Even if I did manage to put on the appropriate dress for the age and the type of girl I was , I couldn’t have done that when I was younger because everything was easier to do when you could think of the whole of a girl in a minute. 

So I do not know what caused it.  I can only hope that she is not still living her life in that way.  She is just a young woman with an angry-bitch brain.  If she cannot change, she might try to change the way she relates to other people.  She might try to find her voice.  Or she might find a way to turn her life around.  One of those things is pretty much out of her control, so she will have to find a way to deal with it, hopefully with some improvement.  This is what life is all about: learning from yourself that you have the capacity to change.

So that night, I got up. I didn’t go to school, because I was sick and all. I put on a suit of clothes, threw on makeup and a cute smile for the first time in weeks, and went down to the bookstore. I looked for something to read.  In the back of the store, they sell books for people who want to be readers but don’t have the money to buy their own books.  I walked into the only one that had a copy of the Harry Potter series, because I read all of the Harry Potter books when I was a teenager.  I sat down at the other end of the table to wait.