May, 1995

How about for a change I lie on my bed and feel sorry for myself and cry. Why am I so chronically depressed.

My mother and I are so far apart. I wonder if there’s any way to make things better between us other than for her to completely change and be more like me. Wouldn’t it be cool if she was an older version of me and then she would be a sympathetic understanding kind person who wanted to help people and do good things for them.

Waste of ink. Waste of air. Waste of space. Waste of time. Waste of caring. I’m a waste. I’m incapable of doing anything. Things are no different than if I was smoking.

I hate everyone especially myself. I wish I was dead. I wish it wouldn’t hurt anybody’s feelings if I would die, I wish killing myself wouldn’t just make me a worse person than I already am. No wonder Jackson doesn’t want to be around me.

I wish there was somebody I trusted I could talk to. I don’t want anybody to know how bad off I am. This definitely isn’t normal. I can’t believe I actually feel this way. I know for a fact I’m not faking it for attention because nobody’s around to see it and I’m afraid of letting people know.

God I can’t believe how bad I feel. I feel like I just can’t cope.

I don’t have to be ashamed of feeling this way. I need help and nobody wants to help me. I wish I was dead. I wish I could just sleep all the time. I want to hurt myself. I feel such deep despair and pain. I’m so sad and depressed. I wish somebody would help me. I don’t deserve to be in a relationship with a normal person. When I would look at that beautiful guy in my Yeats class I knew that even if we did meet and he liked me we could never go out because I’m such a freak.

Oh fuck I’m scared now. I just hit myself and it felt really good. I’m so angry at the world. This isn’t helping at all. I should do something. I should get out of the house.

I’m scared. I’m scared of hurting myself. Do I really believe this or do I just want an excuse to smoke? If I want an excuse I must want one pretty bad. Oh I’m in bad shape. Oh I need some help. Oh I’m in bad shape today. Oh I can’t really hang on. Oh I don’t know what to do.

Later I’ll feel pathetic that I ever felt this way. I’ll feel disgusted with myself.

I should just pull it together. I should put on some sweats and go to the park and run. I should put on some music and take some cold medicine to knock me out.

I’m in some bad fucking shape. If only I wrote great poems when I felt like this and not the same awful shit over and over. I need some help. I need some help. I need some help. Somebody.

Well that was great. I just beat the shit out of myself for a while and it actually seems to have helped. I feel calmer and I want to be dead now. I feel awful and I wish I could die. I hate everyone and I think I want to kill myself. I am a terrible person.