June 19, 2002 :: 9:18 p.m.
I don't have the will anymore to wonder
I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm all fucking depressed for no reason, and for once, talking to Adam didn't make me feel any better. It was just meaningless small talk from both of us. It was empty. Then he said he was going to go, and I wanted to tell him not to, that I didn't want to hang up because he's the only person that can shake this feeling off. But I couldn't get it out, because I'm an idiot. News flash! I'm a moron. I'm an emotional wreck and I don't know what to do about it. I can't even tell my boyfriend the simplest things because everything makes me cry, everything upsets me, everything prompts horrible fears and suspicions. I don't have the will to force the words out of my mouth, because I have absolutely no faith in myself or what I have to say. I can't blame anyone else for it. I know all too well that I'm the source of 99.7% of my own misery.
I feel like a burden to him sometimes, being as... well, like I am as I am, if you can interpret that. That why I couldn't tell him that I didn't want him to get off the phone, because I felt like I was bothering him or boring him or generally just being unpleasant to talk to. So what did I do? I didn't say anything, and now I'm here, sitting at my father's computer, half-crying, wondering when or exactly how I became such a huge fucking mental case. Wondering when I became a coward, so afraid to express what I'm thinking or feeling because I've convinced myself that anything I think or feel is stupid and unwarranted and petty. Wondering why I'm so unhappy all the time when I've got so much going for me. Wondering and wondering until all I really want is to walk out into the middle of the Carlisle Pike and wait for a truck to hit me, because then I wouldn't have to wonder anymore.
back & forth
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