(no subject)
I can't help but to feel alone. I have two friends left up here and only know where one of them is - and she can't wait to move out.
And I know I've become emo. I can't help it anymore. It doesn't matter that I love, it isn't enough and just makes a mess of thing - most especially myself. No one else has caused me to cry so much as my heart has these past months. I want it to stop.
I don't feel that I have anything left for me anymore. Not anywhere, but most especially not here. What's worse, I can imagine what would happen if I were to go let myself freeze to death in the cold as seems to have taken my fancy next to the river. Some would be upset, but wouldn't bother to trouble themselves further. My mom and other girl members of my family would cry that I didn't love them or something - and, unfortunately, it's half true; I love them, but only about as much as our pets. At times I think I love Duke and Friskie and none else. And my dad and brother would pick fights with everyone, and probably some of my uncles, too. I wish I could go back fully to being like that - getting angry rather than crying all the time. I think I preferred anger.
And I want to die, a quick, painless death. Not by my own hands. I'm not even sure if it's entirely that I want it, or some... thing influencing me. I don't much care for that idea, but more and more often the thoughts come unbidden - now even when I'm driving, I always picture myself going off road and being thrown through the windshield even though I have a seatbelt on, and breaking my neck against a tree and as such, dying. ...To the point where I almost want it.
I think there is something wrong with me. I know there is. For now, I'll let it go as, "I've missed my prozac the last few days and even with it I've been in this mindset." I'm going to hope that I shape up when I get back to school. And hope that I can be moved out by the end of the school year. But I can't think of anywhere else to go. I just think that if I stay here, I might well kill myself.
I want to write. Maybe poetry. But I cannot find words to express the desolation and despair wrapped around my heart.
I wish, at least, that I could be truely alone to sulk, since I cannot have those I would desire.
And I know I've become emo. I can't help it anymore. It doesn't matter that I love, it isn't enough and just makes a mess of thing - most especially myself. No one else has caused me to cry so much as my heart has these past months. I want it to stop.
I don't feel that I have anything left for me anymore. Not anywhere, but most especially not here. What's worse, I can imagine what would happen if I were to go let myself freeze to death in the cold as seems to have taken my fancy next to the river. Some would be upset, but wouldn't bother to trouble themselves further. My mom and other girl members of my family would cry that I didn't love them or something - and, unfortunately, it's half true; I love them, but only about as much as our pets. At times I think I love Duke and Friskie and none else. And my dad and brother would pick fights with everyone, and probably some of my uncles, too. I wish I could go back fully to being like that - getting angry rather than crying all the time. I think I preferred anger.
And I want to die, a quick, painless death. Not by my own hands. I'm not even sure if it's entirely that I want it, or some... thing influencing me. I don't much care for that idea, but more and more often the thoughts come unbidden - now even when I'm driving, I always picture myself going off road and being thrown through the windshield even though I have a seatbelt on, and breaking my neck against a tree and as such, dying. ...To the point where I almost want it.
I think there is something wrong with me. I know there is. For now, I'll let it go as, "I've missed my prozac the last few days and even with it I've been in this mindset." I'm going to hope that I shape up when I get back to school. And hope that I can be moved out by the end of the school year. But I can't think of anywhere else to go. I just think that if I stay here, I might well kill myself.
I want to write. Maybe poetry. But I cannot find words to express the desolation and despair wrapped around my heart.
I wish, at least, that I could be truely alone to sulk, since I cannot have those I would desire.