June 26, 2002 :: 4:18 p.m.
feeling as helpless as the elephant man
Adam and I talked. He knows how I'm feeling now, and why, which I suppose is helpful to him but does jack fucking shit for me. I still feel the same way. Nothing has changed. I'm still sitting here with tears running down my face because I'm desperately afraid that everything I imagine will come true.
Not to sound all melodramatic or anything. It's just that I'm in a serious state of NOT FUCKING GOOD and I need to find something to do with myself. I'd say that I need to get my mind off this, but I'm sorry, that's just not going to happen. But I need something. I kept him on the phone as long as I could because I didn't want to be left alone with myself again. But now I am. And it sucks. It's doing nothing to repair my spirits; in fact, they're falling even deeper into hell as I write this. I'm listening to Rufus sing "In My Arms" over and over again, because it's achingly beautiful and seems to fit my mood. My mood is far from achingly beautiful, though. It's... just bad. Too bad to explain.
Have I mentioned before that I hate myself sometimes? Okay, perhaps hate is too strong. I severely dislike myself sometimes. We're talking a sort of dislike that's usually reserved for people who kick puppies. If I wasn't so... like I am... I would be in a good mood right now. I wouldn't be sitting in front of my computer, listening to beautiful but depressing music and getting all fucking teen angsty in my online diary. But no, I am so very like I am, and this is what I get for being that way.
If I could trade myself in for someone else I think I'd do it in a heartbeat.
I don't know what else to say here. I don't want to go on like this, because honestly, it's doing no one any good. I'm just perpetuating my own depression, and inflicting it on those who are unfortunate enough to read this drivel. I really can be quite a fun person, I swear. It's just that I'm not right now. I want more than anything (well, no, not more than anything, but I won't get what I really want at the moment) just to hurt myself, because I am, for lack of a better expression, really angry at myself. Maybe it would shock me into not doing this anymore. But I know that's not true. I could cut my arm off with an Xacto knife and I'd still get like this.
So adieu. I'm going to lie in my room and wallow in my own selfish, unwarranted misery.
At least I don't pretend I'm being rational. I guess that's worth something. I may be a fucking basket case, but I'm not delusional about it.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005