I have felt so overly religious today. I don't think it's a bad thing. It's just...a thing. Gospel music calms my raging, spinning mind.

Something I really hate is when people lack the compassion to even try to understand another person when they haven't been through the situation that the person has. Or shall I just say, I hate being judged by Cody's friends who have never even met me, and who then go telling other people I meet, like Lewis, that they should stay away from me.

I let myself cry last night. It was one in the morning, and I couldn't fall asleep. I kept thinking of Cody and all of the bad things that could happen that would cause me some serious problems. I tried to be rational, I talked to myself, said Krista, stop it. This is ridiculous, stop thinking about it, just go to sleep. I imagined my mind as a clean, blank slate, but that only lasted a few seconds before everything flooded back. I had been fighting the tears for an hour or more and thought, you know what? This isn't going away. So I let myself cry. I cried and talked to God for a while, and fell asleep shortly afterwards.

And now tonight, I am sad again. What is wrong with me? I got off the phone with Cody and went straight to the bathroom so nobody could see me cry. I turned the shower on hot and hard, and stood under the water for ten minutes, letting the tears course my cheeks. I ran my fingers through my hair and over the soft skin of my face, my breasts, my stomach. I am beautiful, I deserve better than this, I don't need him to be happy.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of our break up. How am I going to get through this season? A few weeks from now, minus a year, I had dropped off a bunch of my possessions at Cody's that I wanted him to keep. I had locked myself in my room, turned off the lights, ignored the phone, and wrote my last wishes in my journal, and taken some pills and cut my arms in the weakest, or strongest, cry for help ever known to man.

I asked Lewis why exactly he was told to stay away from me, and he said, "Oh, just the stories." What stories? "Oh, just the SFU one." Um...which in particular? "That you used to lay on the porch all day and skipped all of your classes."

Well, that SFU story is about a hundred times milder than the fifty or so SFU stories that were racing through my mind. How about the one where I chased Cody around campus, virtually stalking him in the pouring rain, grabbing at him and crying for him to please stop walking and talk to me, while he kept telling me to fuck off or he'd get a restraining order against me? That one is especially psychotic. Actually, the one I was really expecting was the age-old story of when I walked in on him and Kate in bed, and proceeded to trash his living room and then run upstairs to scream and then chase Kate down with my field hockey stick (which I didn't do, actually. That minor detail slipped into the rumour because I did indeed have my hockey stick with me, downstairs, before I went up to see if he was home. But upon hearing that new twist to the story, I was quite disappointed I hadn't even thought of hitting her with it. Shit, I could have killed that bitch!). Ahem, anyway.

So I wasn't worried about the "story" he mentioned, I was just surprised. Mainly because, I didn't know that anyone else knew I used to lay on the balcony outside my room. It's actually quite interesting. I did lay there, but not all the time for God's sake. There were a couple times I did, at particular times during the day when I knew Cody walked by my room to go to his classes. I wanted him to think I had committed suicide so he'd freak out. Alas, he never did see me. Or maybe he did all along and told his friends I used to always lay outside on my balcony. It's sort of humourous, in a totally non-humourous way.

I'm feeling very pensive right now, but the more I write about this, the more upset I am making myself. I feel so screwed up. One minute I'm laughing over the idea of me faking suicide on my balcony, and the next I'm thinking, how am I ever going to get up tomorrow morning? This morning was hard enough. I woke up with that familiar depressed pit deep in my chest, that screams at you to never get out of bed again, that whatever you have to do today is not worth doing, that school doesn't matter, friends don't matter, nothing matters, because most of all...

you don't matter...

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