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2016-10-05 16:45:20 (UTC)

oh man. I can't even think of a title

"Out of Site" by Built to Spill

Raised unright
So uptight
But why blame you
You wouldn't be
If you could choose
I know that you'll get yours
When you get empty
It's so close

October 5, 2016 Wednesday 4:45 PM

I have an appointment with Pat today, which is really good because I feel like Shit. Although I get the feeling that one hour-long session isn't gonna make anything better. When does it ever?

It's hard to put words around my mood. It's kind of a sizeless feeling. I mean, most emotions have some kind of shape, don't they?

Happiness can be too big. It can engulf you, all around your body, in a way that you know is only very temporary.

Contentedness is, of course, just right. It fits. It's snug and comfy and good.

There's sadness, which is like negative space. A cute lil black hole blooming from your belly button.

But this? Ummm... I don't even know what to call it. I feel blank, but I also feel terrible and cold and I don't want to get up anymore, but I do it anyways. I have this really, really strong desire to just... quit. Quit it all.

But I don't think I can. Like, I physically cannot.

I really, really want to.

It has no shape. It's just heavy.


1. I don't want people to worry. I really don't like it when people worry. Seriously. It makes me feel gross.

2. Refusing to get out of bed will only make this feeling harder to get out of.

3. People are expecting me to function.

4. Part of me thinks people are expecting me to fail and then eventually kill myself. Like, I feel I've left a lot of unintentional clues in my wake – so if I die by my own hand (/by my own hand/... what a handsome phrase lol), people will say, "Oh, she killed herself?.... That's horrible.... but it makes sense."

Not because they wish me dead, but because looking back, they'll see this morbid girl who didn't really talk a lot and wasn't very confident and at least ten or fifteen people in the school know I write about very dark stuff in my–

(Okay so Pat has to reschedule. There is no way to write silence(ok there probably is), but that's how I feel about that particular fact. No way she could know, but still. "But still" is just a way for me to excuse irrationality. Probably. Dunno. Didn't really analyze that sentence. It could be totally wrong.

Tomorrow and Friday are going to be hard to get through. I'm thinking I might actually just leave school after I get back tomorrow. And the same for Friday. I'll do my computer programming work at home. It's easier to figure out myself anyways.)


Point is, I have this weird feeling that people really wouldn't be all that shocked if I killed myself. It sucks that I want them to be shocked, but I do. I don't want it to be a "finally" or an "oh, of course" type thing. I don't want people to know, in other words.

To have expected this is to have seen a vulnerable part of me... which is annoying.

I'm trying not to perpetuate this cycle of thoughts, but half of me feels like it's too late. I keep beating myself up over very stupid things and I try to hold it down but I'm, like. Getting weaker.

I just hate myself by the end of every day, and I'm pretty sure I'm an idiot and I can't see myself going anywhere in life. Also I'm a really bad writer.

Which is the depression talking.

I believe it.

I shouldn't.

I do.

Am I rational or irrational? Stupid or smart? Ugly or pretty? Are any of these really questions of 'or'? Are they all easily answered with a 'both'?

Or a neither.

I feel very weird right now, like I must think of something to do now. Most of my thoughts are very broken, but I feel I can focus on one thing, which is escape. Which way is Out. And no, I don't want to go through the obvious exit sign. But I want to get out.


I think I'm a whole person, though. Over the years, I've learned that I have lines. There are things I like and dislike and each time I realize that, it makes me feel a little more solid. I like people. I dislike motorcycles. Specifically, the noises they make. Loud noises drive me insane. They make me really angry. But anyway, I like people.

I have opinions and I have passions and this is the kind of stuff that makes a person a Person. I am a Person. I am not scooped out, although sometimes I feel like I am.

By now, I'm talking just to talk. When I stop, I will do homework. I don't want to do homework. I don't want to think. I don't want to get up. I don't want to do anything.

I can't really see a way out of this.

I haven't really talked to Liv lately. Last night, through text, she told me stuff about her life and how the two of us are getting married at some point and then she asked me how things are going in my life, but I just told her I'd tell her another time, that I had to go to bed for now.
This is because I couldn't think of anything positive to say.

I guess I've run out of stuff to talk about. And I hate this topic anyways. I think I write about it too much.