11:10 p.m. - 2002-03-13
[correction] people and politics and attitudes and you
a real letter.
I always think where to begin where to begin and I wind up writing some fucked up first sentence that has nothing to do with anything. like this one.
I think I'm getting sick. I really need to get away from here. I feel like nothing is moving anywhere and I'm so fucking static. I don't know what to do, I feel lost. I don't know why you're the person I'm writing this to. maybe because sometimes I get so caught up with the some people and I insist on making them my therapists or at least my emotional punch bags. I feel like everything is one big fraud and like nothing is gonna be fine in the end, not even in the beginning or the middle. I have so many people that love me so much yet I feel so alone. I can't handle anything lately, little things I never thought about became the biggest problems for me now. I feel like no one is really listening to me and that they all just wait for me to finish talking so they could state their opinion or express themselves. maybe that's why I'm writing You, cause you're just like them, I bet you never think about what I say more than thirty seconds, even less. I hate everybody lately and it's hard for me to handle my mood swings. I think I'm going to start taking Paxil, simply cause nothing else works. I know I give up before I even started, but thoughts about killing myself or rather - disappearing completely didn't cross my mind as often as they do now. sometimes everything is fine and I'm hysterically happy and then everything collapses and I'm crying, I'm thinking about hurting myself, about destroying myself, about wanting something bad to happen to me cause then I'll know what hurts. it sounds so stupid, so teenage-angsty like, but I do feel this way and as pathetic as it is, I can't avoid these feelings longer. so I got a job, so I'm going to school, but what's the point? there's nothing beyond. live fifty, sixty, seventy years in a boring daily routine until you perish and that's your wonderful gift of life. I don't think I want it. I can't sit still anymore. I only feel like I will awake if I'll hurt myself or be in somekind of a constant stimulant situation, but I can't make myself jump to extremes anymore. I feel like slicing my legs with the kitchen knife but I know it will leave scars and destroy the texture of my skin. I really want to shoot heroin[I always did..] cause it seems like it's all or nothing but I know myself good enough to realize that it would be the end of me. I want to shave my head again I want to put dozens of holes in my skin in my face but I know I'll change my mind later on and regret it. I can never make a choice cause when I do, I always think about the other one. I need you to help me, to talk to me, to hug me, to love me but I know you will only ignore this and go on as if nothing happened. I know. you are a coward maybe bigger than me or maybe you just don't care anymore, and sometimes I hate you so much for this.
I need help.
