I actually think I am going to explode. There has been this time-bomb ticking away in my chest for so long, and it's about three seconds away from going off. I'm either going to have a complete emotional breakdown, or I'm going to scream, or I'm going to totally destroy something.

I am so, so stupid. No - don't say that, or you'll become a self-fulfilled prophecy, I just learned about this in school for God's sake, and I still do it. Tell myself I am stupid.

Okay but this was pretty stupid. I just told myself today I was going to wait another whole week before calling him, so that I knew he was home and I wouldn't get upset before I had to study for the rest of my finals. And what did I do? Yeah, of course I did. Picked up the phone and called him tonight. Why? Why did I choose to do that? I have no fucking idea why I chose to do that. I just did. I missed him, I wanted to talk to him, and I still have these delusions in my head that it'll go a little something like this:

Me: Hey!
Him: Hey...how are you?
Me: I'm okay...but I miss you. How are you?
Him: I'm okay...I miss you too
Me: Really?
Him: Yeah...I do...
Me: Well do you wanna do something sometime...we could go out for coffee, or I could come up and visit you...it isn't all the far from Langara...
Him: Yeah...I broke up with [stupid fucking bitch]...if you still want to...I want to try again...

And the rest. La-dee-da, fantasy that will probably never come true. But I am addicted to fantasy. I live in my head. I grew up on fairy tales and was always told that if I dream it, I can do it. I was taught that if I tried hard enough to get something I wanted, I would get it. I was taught that if something was important to me, to never to give up. I'm not giving up...and I'm in pain...I am always in pain.

The real conversation went like this:

Me: Hey!
[short pause]
Him: Hey
Me: What's up?
[really, really long pause, so long I was about to say, Hello?!]
Him: Um, nothing
[I SWEAR I heard some kind of kissing-type noise but honestly, it could have been in my head]
Me: What was that all about?
Him: Nothing
[short pause]
Me: Are you busy?
Him: Yeah
Me: ....Oh.
[I'm thinking: Oh, fuck me. This is bad.]
Me: Do you have someone over?
Him: Yeah
Me: ...Okay. Can I call you tomorrow?
Him: I don't know
Me: Okay well...I love you
Him: Bye

If that wasn't something short of a complete disaster...Lord. Nobody has any idea how much I want to kill this bitch. I want her to die. Here comes the uncensored part, but fuck I really don't care anymore. I'm tired of coming off as not wanting to kill people when I really could. If I had the chance to kill her and 100% get away with it, hello. Who'd pass up an oppertunity like that? I know you're thinking, Uh, I would, because I actually have morals, unlike you, you sick psycho. Yeah, well...yeah. I'm not going to apologize for any of this shit anymore. So I want her to die, is that totally incomprehensible?

You can talk yourself into or out of anything on this planet, that is a fact. But I don't have the strength anymore to talk myself out of it. I feel so lonely, even when I am around my best friends. I can scream, I can cry, I can yell at myself to forget about him and that it isn't worth it, and that so many people love me, but I still find myself like this. There are times like this when I want to give up. Because this is too hard, and I am too young to be wasting away my days like this. Wasting Friday nights crying about a boy who is almost completely out of my life. I could have gone out to the bar with my best girl friends, but I chose to stay here, and cry, and think that just because I am writing everything I am thinking, that it is going to go away. Once upon a time, I believed that writing in my diary really did help me, and that once I wrote it down, I didn't feel it anymore. Expressing yourself is supposed to bring about some sense of freedom, lift the burden off your shoulders, is it not? So why am I still so entirely screwed up over this? What is wrong with me? I am so, so tired, and I am so frustrated. I am so frustrated with not knowing what is wrong with me. Nobody ever knows what is wrong with me.

One single person is destroying my life, and it isn't Cody, it is me.

Someone loves me. Michelle just called me back (after I had called her crying a while ago), to ask how I was doing. I told her I'd been screaming FUCK a lot and being really pissed off, but I'm slightly better. She said, "Screaming fuck is always good". I said, "Well it's like I always say, the word fuck was made for situations like this".

I don't know what to do anymore. I'm just so tired. I'm so tired of fighting everything. And I'm scared. I scare myself all of the time, because I never know what to expect from myself. Some days I am okay, and some days I am not. Some days I think I'm ready for a new guy, some days I cannot imagine it. I'm scared of my future. I'm scared I'm never going to get what I want out of life. What guy is going to want to be with me now? I'm scared that even if I do marry and have babies, that I'll pass some sort of depression gene on to my kids.

I never thought I would hide anything from my kids, but what am I supposed to do now? I couldn't tell my children that I tried to kill myself, and that it took me forever to get over my first love, and that I was put on medication, and that I had emotional and physical breakdowns that almost led my mom to institutionalize me. I couldn't tell my kids that, I just couldn't. My mom once showed me her diaries and old letters to friends from when she was young. I could never show my kids my diaries. Never, ever. What would they think, if they knew their mom used to be crazy?

I miss Sarah. If she were still here, I could call her, and I could go over to her house just around the corner. Her mom would make us tea, and we'd sit together on her bed, and she'd hug me, and we'd talk about other things, stupid things that only her and I could talk about. I wish she wasn't in Alberta. I wish she were here, with me. I'm so selfish. I just wish that everyone I loved would love me too, and could be with me all the time.

This is great. I've gone from being entirely pissed off to being super depressed.

I used to be highly aware of myself when I cried, but I've cried so much in the last year or so that I can't even feel it. I had no idea I was crying until a second ago, when I bet I've been crying for at least ten minutes. The collar of my shirt is soaked, and I wasn't even feeling the tears stream down my face. When I cry, it doesn't mean anything anymore. It used to bring about a reaction in myself and other people. Now, I cry because I really am sad. I cry when I'm so lonely that it hurts.

I know other people feel depressed. I know other people are in pain. So why do I still feel like I am the only one?

I'm sick of fighting this. I just want to be babied. I want someone to take care of me. I can't do this anymore.

<< || >>