I'm tired.

I'm tired of everything. Physically, emotionally, the whole bit. I really just want to be out of the world for a bit. Like, I would like to die temporarily and come back after awhile and carry on with life, just as alive as ever, but hopefully more ready to meet challenges head-on. Why can't we have that? I could get all the sleep I need, and I could run away from my problems in true hedonist fashion, and all would be well. I don't know what would happen to my body in the interim, though. Would someone agree to house it, if it didn't decompose or anything? I know I wouldn't want to have a dead body kicking about my living room. Kind of gives a suspicious air to the place. Maybe I could be frozen, and just take a really long, hot, shower when I woke up (in this parallel universe, there would be actual hot water in the dorms). Oh yes, and I suppose there would have to be something funny going on with time so that I wouldn't miss any of my important classes. Man. Who knew being dead was so riddled with problems?
No, but really, I'm so sick of everything. Melissa has grown strangely attached to the room, so I don't want to eat anymore, and tell me what you please, I still think that it's hard to maintain a gung-ho attitude in the face of imminent starvation. I have a lot of papers to write, and I have no inclination to write them, which is fairly worrisome, because if there's anything I like, it's writing papers. I just don't want to get anything done. I try to bribe myself in hopes that I'll get it all done, but there's nothing I can do to reward myself, so that plan doesn't amount to much. I'm worried about my stupid survey class, the one the university made me take without asking, since it's terribly disorganized, and I don't think I've done the assignments, and it would be horrible beyond words to ruin my GPA with that class. I don't know what I'm going to do about my Humanities Scholars class either, because I haven't gone to a lot of the events, and they might fail me for that. And I'm so sick to death of the interminable numbers of people! I never feel comfortable doing anything, because they're always around me. Tomorrow, the guy from orchestra somehow got me to agree to practicing with him, and I REALLY don't want to. I'm dreading it so much. Why did I agree to this? He's one of those lovely touchy people too, so I can't back out without mortally offending him, and I suppose that shouldn't matter, but I'm me, and I'm pathetic, and I want to avoid as much unpleasantness as I can. I just really don't want to do this anymore. I want to die. No, I don't, that's not true. I don't know what I want. Just not this. Or anything. I want someone to take care of me for once. No one's ever done that. I suppose that's the danger of being the shiny balloon I am. It's easy to assume that I'm all right, since I'm so good at pretending that everything's perfect, and once I get into the role of the caretaker, I can't get out. And I don't want to show any weakness, so there's no one on whom I can rely, not really. I just want someone to love me, no strings attached, and see to my needs, no matter how trivial they are, or how whiny I seem. I want someone to hold me and pet my hair and tell me that it's going to be okay, and that I shouldn't worry. And I want to cry and not have to feel ashamed of it. Why can't I have that? Why am I always the one who has to take care of everyone, no matter how horrible I might feel? Am I selfish for wanting love? I only need a little bit. I'm not used to it, so it would go far. And I don't need it often, even once would be enough. I'm resilient, I'm strong, I'm brave– and I'm so pathetic. I'm sick of being everyone's rock. I want to break. Why is it okay for everyone else to be cared for, but not me? Oh, why am I so selfish? I need to be better. I don't know what to do anymore. Everything hurts. Maybe it would be better if I did just go out and die.