You would think that everything is ok because in reality, my life is ok. But I am never mentally ok. Never. There is always something that is bothering me.

Sitting here in this dim light seems like a prison. But it’s not a prison. The music is really miserable and melancholic. I feel like someone sitting alone in a bar just ordering drink after drink after drink. Alcohol is a depressant after all.

But anyways, I feel like everything is just a roller coaster. One day I want to die, the next I want to live, the next day I don’t care what happens, the next day I am excited for the future. It fucking sucks. It’s a fucking mess. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t even want to be here anymore, not by myself. Yesterday was a good day. I need more of those. But honestly, that is not going to happen every day. How am I supposed to have fun? I hate it.

I wish I could erase my memory and forget about everything that happened at Storrs. I want to even forget that it exists. I should have never gone. I mean really, I should have never gone. I should have never fucking gone, never. It even fucked up my grades too. No amount of social experience is something that should affect my grades. I hate it. Seriously.

But all these self help books and all these thoughts and going to the gym and all that. I know that nothing comes easy. I know that nothing comes from one day to the next. All things come in due time. They say. But I just want everything to happen all at once. I just want all my happiness to manifest itself immediately and so I would never have to worry about anything ever again. I fucking hate it, because I know for a fact that this is not going to happen. I know that there are going to be some days where I just feel like killing myself and that I cannot continue with life. But maybe one day I will be able to overcome this. Will I? Will one day actually be my last? Will I actually have the guts to just kill myself if things don’t work? I have been directly warned that if I continue to feed on to my fears, they will turn into self fulfilling prophecies. Ha. The last thing I needed to hear. But maybe the only thing that I needed to hear. Maybe the one thing that needed to wake me up from this nightmare. Yes, I am better. I have been a bit better. I have even noticed such changes. But still. There are desires. There are those reminders of the broken dreams, broken promises, and disappointments from people. I am still jaded. I wish that I had never gotten into a relationship with him. I can’t EVEN type his name. I can’t. Doing that is way too painful. Yet some have said that he may come back. I don’t think so, though. I really don’t. By the time, (if, that is one big if) he may come back, which I don’t think he will, I will have moved on. Or will I? Will I? Is hope delusion? Is it? They say that it is, but some say that it isn’t. Yet, I know that I need to be positive.

So why am I even doing this still? Why don’t I just simply off myself? I am tired of asking myself the same question day after day after day. It gets so tiring. It all gets so damn tiring. Seriously. I have only such strength left in me. That I have no idea what I would do. I just want everything to be cured. I just want everything to go away. All the pain, suffering, dis-illusionmnents, disappointments, everything. All the bad people.

I just feel so dull. I hate this place. But I can’t leave. I honestly cannot leave. I do not have the money. Or the grades? Should I even worry? Should I EVEN care? Like. I don’t know.

Diary, for once, seriously, for ONCE, truly: I do not know what to say anymore. I really don’t. You know how much I love you. You know how much I have turned to you for comfort in times of grief. You know how many times I have come to you. You have never turned me away. You have always listened, silently. You have always tolerated everything I have said, no matter how delusional or pathetic or overdramatic it may have sounded. You really are the only one that has bared everything. My darkest and most hateful thoughts. But now, there is nothing left to say. I believe i have exhausted my words, and my thoughts. I am not sure which is worse. You know the answer, don’t you? I wish I could know what to say. But as I sit here and type away, typing away meaningless words to continue moving my fingers and to continue to make this entry as long as I want it to…it’s useless! It’s so useless. I have said that my purpose in life is to help people. Yes. I know this. But…I can’t even help myself. All I want is happiness. That’s it. I don’t care how it comes, but I want it. Isn’t it funny? I don’t care how happiness comes, but I want it. I’m not sure.

This is it. I have nothing else to say. I am so sorry. I want to thank you for everything. For absolutely everything. Yes. I am blessed to have been able to write everything on here. I really am. But now, as my thoughts expire and my mind runs low in energy and common sense, I have nothing else to say. The depression is looming. It always is. It’s here. Invisibly. It’s still here but I cannot see it. It hasn’t completely retired just yet. But maybe I hope that one day it will. Really. I don’t know. I don’t know anymore. I’m sorry that I have nothing else to say. I am sorry that I have absolutely no more thoughts and nothing else. I will now stop stalling this entry and end it. I am sorry, once again. I have said it all, haven’t I? I have said it all one hundred million times. I no longer need to repeat myself. For there is nothing new and nothing good to say.

I love you, always. Clearly. Forever. However you want to define it. So thank you. And yeah. Fuck people, fuck society, fuck depression, fuck those who have hurt me, and fuck this place. And fuck every single person that has hurt me and has broken my heart. I wish them nothing. I wish them absolutely fucking nothing. Karma is going to take care of them. I fucking know it (my god, I fucking don’t know shit anymore, I never did). I only want it to happen. But I don’t know that it will. But then again, you already knew everything in this last paragraph already.

bye.

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