I just... don't have the energy anymore.
For anything.
I can't smile. I can barely hold my head high as I walk. All I want to do is cry and sleep.

It's not even the punishment. One weekend of being unable to hang out with friends, except for setbuilding. It's not that bad. I can handle it.
But it's the fact that there's no reason for me to be punished.
It's the fact that this is exactly the time when I need to be surrounded by friends.
It's the fact that I have to spend so much time in the same house as my mother.

I'm not even angry anymore. So what, my mom decided to punish me for no reason. Got mad over stupid things. I can handle that. I can get over it. What I can't handle is the stuff she said yesterday.

Even before I entered the house, she was yelling. I was scared, so I'd hesitated outside the door. And she said, "Get in here right now or I'll kill you! I'm not going to put up with your shit anymore!"

I didn't even try to speak. I just walked inside. She grabbed my arm roughly and threw me on the couch. She said, "You sit your ass down right there, and don't move!" I went obediently. Stripped of my dignity. Subservient. I sat as still as I could, looking at the floor, trying not to make a sound.

She didn't give me space. She made me look at her as she yelled. She told me I'm a brat. I'm disrespectful. I'm spoiled. I'm lazy. She told me I think I can do whatever I want, go wherever I want, but I can't. I tried to explain my reasoning for all the things I did that day. I didn't think I'd done anything wrong. In my head, it was what had seemed logical. I wasn't trying to disobey or exert my own authority. I left the house that day because I didn't think she wanted people around when she wasn't feeling well.
She wouldn't listen. She called me a liar. Told me to stop making up "fairy tales". Maybe I am a brat. Maybe I am spoiled. Maybe I am lazy. But if there is one thing I'm not, I'm not a liar. I'm not a liar.
I told her that. She didn't believe me. She told me I was causing her a lot of stress and pain. That it was my fault. That wasn't what I meant to do. I was trying to help. But no. All I can do as a child is cause my parents pain.
Eventually, she might have started believing me.
I told her, "Mom, please. I'm not trying to do that. That was just my sense of reasoning!"
"Your sense of reasoning is flawed. You have no common sense. You think you are in charge? You're not. You always lose everything, you have no common sense, and you always do things to go against me. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I raised you wrong."
...She raised me wrong. The sentence no child wants to hear. She raised me wrong. She made a mistake. I'm a disappointment.

Somewhere in there, I started to cry. I couldn't help myself. I tried to hold it in, but I couldn't. I couldn't move, I couldn't think, I could just cry. My mother's words rang through my head, and I sobbed harder. She told me to stop being such a baby. Stop being so overly dramatic. She thought I was trying to make her feel guilty. But, I wasn't. I just couldn't help myself. I just fell to the ground and cried. It was all I could do.
It was all I did. I somehow managed to drag myself to my bed, after awhile. And that's what I did. I lay down in bed, and I cried. Her words were on endless repeat. Her angry screams, the face she made, like I was disgusting. It reeled under my eyes. And it poured out in the form of saltwater. I cried until I fell asleep. And I slept. I could've slept forever. But, at 9, my mom woke me up. Reiterated how I needed to stop being so spoiled and disobedient. Told me that I was not allowed to go anywhere this weekend. See anyone. I could go to setbuilding, but that was it. My dad had somehow reduced the month into a weekend. And I was thankful for that. Before she had started yelling earlier that day, my sentence being reduced to a weekend would've fixed everything. I would've been able to let the whole thing go. But, somehow, it didn't fix everything. It didn't fix anything. She had still said all those things. And once I was awake, they again rang in my ears. The poisonous words spread down into my heart and infected my whole blood stream. I feel bad all over. The poison drains my energy. I try to force on a smile for everyone in school, but I can't.
After she left, I tried to cry some more. Inside, I was screaming. But the tears wouldn't come out. So I just curled up into a tight ball, and waited again for the silence of sleep to take me. I drowned in my negative thoughts. I felt regret for what I had put my friends through. I felt sorrow at being a disappointment. I tried to dredge up some love for my mother, tried to find it somewhere in there. But, I couldn't. Those thoughts haunted me for the next couple of hours, until sleep finally again overtook me. And I slept until the morning.
This morning, I told myself I wouldn't let it get to me. I told myself I'd have a good day. I told myself I'd smile, be cheerful, put the events of yesterday in the back of my mind.
But the trouble is, they aren't just in my mind. They're in my heart. I'm sitting here in the library, close to tears. My emotions are twisting my stomach, and my heart feels like it's trying to beat under big heavy chains. I feel like I'm going to be sick. I'm trying not to think about it. I'm trying not to let it get to me. But it is. And I don't know what I can do to fix it. If I try talking to my mom about it, she'll just yell again. She'll just think I'm trying to make her feel bad, and stress her out. I'll get less time with friends.

Not that my friends will want me around much longer anymore, if I can't shake this off. I realized, somewhere along the line, that I have a deep fear that if I am sad for too long, if I show too much of it, if I can't smile and be cheerful all the time, I'll be abandoned. I've had this fear ever since 6th grade. I don't know why, but I do. I feel so bad that I can't smile, that I can't be happy, that I can't be interesting. I don't want to be a burden. But I am. To everyone.

I... I just don't... know what to do anymore. There's nothing I can do anymore.