why does it feel so good but hurt so bad?

I'm searching for excuses to fill my Smoothie King addiction. I just spent the last ten minutes looking up the health benefits to smoothies and bullshit. I just want to feel like I'm purging my system.

I mean, they don't really mention anything unhealthy, just the turbinado. Primarily, it's all fruits and natural juices.

Anyway.

It's so strange being a senior on the badminton team. I never really thought I'd actually make it here. Well, you know, of course I did, it's expected. But, now that it's here, it's really surreal. Like, the freshmen on the team this year are looking at me as the untouchable senior. They won't remember me past sophomore year, but occasionally they're come to mind. (It happens with me with my own senior class as a freshman. Fuck you, Arielle).

Today, Sam sent me a text message, out of the blue, saying, "I actually love you" and of course, I reacted as, "what did i do" because honestly I never know what I do to warrant a message like that.

And then she responded, "you are like my big sister". I just thought that was probably the nicest thing someone has said to me.

I'm trying really hard to be a mentor, a good one. I'm trying to teach people how not to freak out on the court and be better. I want to practice with people and teach them.

I break the badminton silence rule every day.

i swear i'll never wrong you again

It's funny. Death has always crossed my mind, not in the sense of suicide or murder, but just the idea of it. The idea of perhaps crawling into your bed and quietly passing into the black, never to return to the sun. Yet, it knocks on my doorstep (not mine, per se, but you get the general idea) and I can't run fast enough from it. I want to run towards it, ward it away and bar it from the world, but I'm no Winchester and I'm no angel.

Grandpa is dying; Grandma is gaunt. I am powerless, seeking answer in God who seems to have His line on busy.

For the first time, I broke down in public, in front of Oriani, Kuster, DelGuidice and Tiffany. I didn't mean to, I swear. But for whatever reason, I express emotion around my family and it's all a joke. I've just been so used to cooping up my emotions that when someone shows genuine concern, I play it off as a joke. All I know is that the more I do it, the cracks begin to spider and eventually I do crack.

I know I have people I could talk to if necessary, but I can't really talk to people about my problems. I rant into a fucking pixel board.

Honestly: I want to talk about it. I don't want to cry in front of people. Crying is weakness and a sign of hopelessness. I don't want to have no hope.

Kellie asked me after Inkspots if I was okay. Apparently I looked distraught. And what did I say? "I always look distraught."

"You look worried about something."

"We have to get to practice."

Yeah, I'm a tumblr basket case. If you ask me if something's wrong, I say, "I'm tired.". If you ask me how I'm feeling, I'll respond, "Fine" but on some stupid smile that I've mastered at doing and go back to doing whatever I was doing.

I just wish I could look at my grandparents without feeling like crying all the time.