I don't know why I am writing here, I got no idea in my mind, I just wanted to write something down. Perhaps this is just a attempt to not feel so alone, but why would this help. This is a one way conversation, in which I am the on talking. I might just be this messed up cheek that will feel alone forever, even when she is with friends, because that happens to me. Isn't it strange that although I have friends and sometimes I hang out with them, god that sounded pathetic, I always feel alone and always have felt that way. A constant feelings of trying to reach out but there is nothing, do I want to much attention or is it just that I can't grasp the feeling of having friends. I always feel like I have to emerge with somebody, be one with them, to not feel alone. How in the world is that a possibility, because one can not bind oneself to one person only just for a friendship. Or am I the one that has a problem, too afraid to fully commit to friends because of the constant fear that they will go away and forget about you, what they will do because this girl cuts off all ties as soon as she doesn't see her friends on an almost daily basis. Do I even have the right to complain about everything when I am the one in charge of everything, yet fucking it over and wondering where it all went wrong? Or do my friends lack interest in my well-being as my blogspot is clearly announced in my MSN and my friends of days long gone are there too, but I don't think they read it. Because how in the world would they ask me how my life is doing when I have written about being suicidal, cutting again after they thought everything was better. I am not a person who really talks about her problems to others, I just mention I am not feeling all that well but never why. To my friends at college I merely sad that for a long time I felt sad and that it wasn't beneficial for my school work and that I sometimes still suffer from it but that I get around from time to time and that the past is the past.
The past was the past until the past caught up with me again. Well, maybe not the past, just the tendencies that I had sworn I would never carry out again, the feelings I wish I would never have again. In all my vain attempts I would have never guessed, never thought and never wanted to be in this position. Although I might not have been cut free and my state of mind wasn't all that clear and perfect either at least it wasn't to this level of self indulgence. Why the hell did I pick up self-harm again, do I really need it or is it just a strong wish to feel better, an addiction. Sometimes I justify it by telling myself that it is the only way to deal with myself. I feel like I am not fit for myself. My body is to tight for me or to big and my whole body irks and I don't know what to do with myself. I try to be light hearted, though some people judge me for it. DON'T MAKE JOKES ABOUT SELF-HARM AND SUICIDE! How else am I supposed to cope, because if we can't laugh about something serious are we all going to sit down and cry our eyes out because life sucks so much. Where in the world has my laughter gone to. I just want to run away for myself, I want to get out of this body, this cage of anxiety, depression and self-hate. This is not who I wanted to become and now I am stuck and have no way out, it's so deep that I don't even know if there is even the smallest piece left of the person I should have become. Maybe I was just meant to be this, unstable.
*just read up on facebook WWII*
http://img40.imageshack.us/img40/1644/ww2onfacebook.jpg
All I can think about is how I want to kill myself just to live. For a lot of people this would be the strangest thought ever, though I have heard more people say it. It is the last solution to get out of yourself, to not escape yourself but to start over, yet we know that you can't start over when you die. It is strange that you can sometimes long for change so much that you are willing to kill yourself to achieve it even though you can't experience the change then. To me this is just a statement of how much I want to get out of myself, I wish I could step out of myself, out of these flesh and bones. It is all so much inside my head, so much inside my body. It's like I am infected with a disease that I can feel rushing through my bloodstream and through my brains. And I know that I will be a mangled form of life in time, then I cry, because with all these things going on in my head there isn't room left for anything else, it just eat anything else and I am left with this disease eating my heart and I can see it from a distance how my body is rotting away and I am locked up in it. You can't drive a rusty can, you can't drive a rusty body either. All the fear all the sadness everything that is constant here is my chassis and body and the sane part of me tries to drive it, but you can't drive something without a proper engine. It's a danger to others on the road and myself. When you are driving a broken down car you know you want to get out and continue on food just to be safe, with your body and mind you can't do the same. If it were only so easy.
I am surprised that I have written a coherent entry without planning to.
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