Sunday, September 7
here it is, boys and girls, straight and unedited from the almighty red book:
I wish I was dead. But the main thing that's keeping my whole heart from going into that wish is Brent. And wishes don't come true, most of the time, right?
Mom seems angry at the fact that I'm feeling depressed and suicidal. She seems impatient at the fact that I didn't like Eva, saying that the next one I have, I must stay with. I should have never, ever told my parents about the scratching. I really regret it now. really.
I want to scratch right now. But I know I shouldn't. I should just let it bottle up inside. I'm a way to trusting person. naive. ignorant. just plain stupid. My mind keeps flashing back to when my mom said she was tired of bending over backwards for little miss scratch herself. She says if I ever commited suicide, she and dad would not be able to work. she says they'd have to go to a mental home. But I ask myself this, why the fuck should I give a shit about how they'll feel and what will happen to them after I've commited suicide? Yea, they say they care, and then make bullshit comments. Little miss scratch herself my ass! But no. I guess I'm better than that. And I can't stand to think of what Brent would have to go through.
so yea. that's it. sums it up quite nicely in my opinion. my stomach hurts like it does when I'm depressed. a cold, bottomless empty feeling, like I could drink gallons and gallons of ice water and still not have my thirst satisfied. I tend to get that feeling a lot. also, when I'm laying in bed, I feel like my spirit is kinda detached from my body, and I'm zooming away into space at the speed of light, or that I'm watching my body lay in bed, staring at the bright red glow of my alarm clock. but that feeling isn't one I get when I'm depressed. it just happens. and I feel like I gotta wrap up tight in my blankets to keep my body from floating away.
I love you Brent. don't ever forget that (o:
I wish I was dead. But the main thing that's keeping my whole heart from going into that wish is Brent. And wishes don't come true, most of the time, right?
Mom seems angry at the fact that I'm feeling depressed and suicidal. She seems impatient at the fact that I didn't like Eva, saying that the next one I have, I must stay with. I should have never, ever told my parents about the scratching. I really regret it now. really.
I want to scratch right now. But I know I shouldn't. I should just let it bottle up inside. I'm a way to trusting person. naive. ignorant. just plain stupid. My mind keeps flashing back to when my mom said she was tired of bending over backwards for little miss scratch herself. She says if I ever commited suicide, she and dad would not be able to work. she says they'd have to go to a mental home. But I ask myself this, why the fuck should I give a shit about how they'll feel and what will happen to them after I've commited suicide? Yea, they say they care, and then make bullshit comments. Little miss scratch herself my ass! But no. I guess I'm better than that. And I can't stand to think of what Brent would have to go through.
so yea. that's it. sums it up quite nicely in my opinion. my stomach hurts like it does when I'm depressed. a cold, bottomless empty feeling, like I could drink gallons and gallons of ice water and still not have my thirst satisfied. I tend to get that feeling a lot. also, when I'm laying in bed, I feel like my spirit is kinda detached from my body, and I'm zooming away into space at the speed of light, or that I'm watching my body lay in bed, staring at the bright red glow of my alarm clock. but that feeling isn't one I get when I'm depressed. it just happens. and I feel like I gotta wrap up tight in my blankets to keep my body from floating away.
I love you Brent. don't ever forget that (o:
# posted by Alyssa : 10:29 PM
