Dying to find a way out
I can't write about this on my other journal. I just wrote this entire entry about how getting help is the way to do it. About how being strong is the only way to survive. And how I don't wanna be who I am anymore. But what happened? She handed me that phone and my confidence went DOWN. Further than it had ever gone before. Far enough that my mind was telling me that even the counseler didn't wanna hear it. I wasn't convinced in her reply that she wanted anything to do with me. No, I was not convinced at ALL. And if a counseler doesn't want to help me, why should I go to them?
I've always hated the idea of going. So why did I even convince myself that I needed one? I don't. I am me. I am Gen. That is my identity. That's what I am. Who I am. I don't want to change.
By all means, I do believe that if you have a problem, then get help. I don't have a problem. If being myself is really that bad of a thing, then maybe I should have died this summer. I garentee it will happen again.
A waste of time, effort, and wasted beliefs that I can't follow anyways.
I've always hated the idea of going. So why did I even convince myself that I needed one? I don't. I am me. I am Gen. That is my identity. That's what I am. Who I am. I don't want to change.
By all means, I do believe that if you have a problem, then get help. I don't have a problem. If being myself is really that bad of a thing, then maybe I should have died this summer. I garentee it will happen again.
A waste of time, effort, and wasted beliefs that I can't follow anyways.