It’s been a bad day.
I’m paranoid. I know this. Paranoid Personality Disorder. Me.
I’m sick. Physically, not mentally. Maybe I’m just a hypochondriac. I’m constantly weak and tired. I feel drained all of the time. My time in swim which was improving
is getting worse. I’m moving backward. My body hurts all of the time.
I feel alone all day long. The crowds of people in the hall just push me out of their way just so that they can get where they want to go. I don’t see faces anymore, really. I saw five faces today. 3/4 of my best friends, my brother’s and my art teacher’s.
Let me clear that up. I have four best friends. Two are named Katie, one is named Michelle, and the other’s name is Jacob.
I don’t feel like this is worth the struggle. I don’t want to wake up in the morning, not from fatigue, but from not wanting to have to live in this hell hole.
I watched Dear Jack tonight. I cried during the whole thing. I felt like shit for wanting to end my life when Andrew McMahon’s was almost ripped from his hands. I promise I am in no way comparing myself to Andrew McMahon. He’s the most talented person I can think of and who I look up to in life. It’s just…
He was battling cancer. Lieukemia. With this disease, he kept a smile plastered on his face. He tried to be as positive as he possibly could, and it payed off for him. But if I were in that position, I don’t think it would pay off for me. I mean, dealing with this fucking disease (depression / ppd … they kind of go hand-in-hand) I try so so so hard to be positive. I try to find goodness and beauty in everything in this dark cruel world, but it’s nearly impossible. I’m so done with this shit its unbelievable.
I said it earlier, and I’m sure I sound like a broken record, but I feel so alone. I need to be loved. I can’t function without knowing that someone cares. Andrew McMahon had Kelly whom he later married. If I got cancer at this moment in time, I’d be battling it without the love of someone I love. He’s off with his new girlfriend getting hickeys and spending the night in her car. I don’t drive. It’s just so shitty.
I’m pretty much just complaining at this point. That’s not what I wanted to do on here. I wanted to let out the built up tension I have built up inside of me about my fears and how they’re taking over my life, but I got sucked into this sick twisted world of my depression yet again. Fuck Depression, let me be happy. Fuck PPD, I want to live my life without thinking that everything is going to kill me.
Every time I’m in a car that goes under a stop light, the pole falls and decapatates us… in my head.
Every time someone complains about a funny smell, it’s fucking chemical warfare… in my head.
Every time someone takes to long in the bathroom, they’ve been murdered and lying dead on the ground, and if I didn’t let them go ahead of me they wouldn’t have died … in my head.
I’m so fucked up, sometimes I don’t know real life from these fucked up scenes that play in my head. I just want to be a happy healthy teenager. Not one dealing with these demons.
