Obligatory May text post

I'm back home now, and you'd think I would feel better, but really, I don't at all. I don't even know what's wrong with me, I mean sure I'm in the throes of romantic despair, that's de rigeur, but besides that, I think something's wrong with me, I really do. I've been feeling it for awhile now, and yeah, it was pretty bad when I was at school too, but now I feel literally mentally ill. It's like being sick– I mean, it is being sick– but it's not physical. Although I guess it manifests itself physically too, or I think it does. But I don't know. I've can't remember ever feeling so bad before. On a good day, I don't feel anything at all, and it's like I'm sort of vaguely making my way through a fog, but on a bad day, it's all I can do to speak to my family, or a least listen when they speak to me. I'm trying to make it through one day at a time, but that's difficult, because I don't even want to do that. And I know I should be trying to make myself better, and I am trying, or at least I think I am, but nothing's working, and I want to feel okay again, or even just feel again, but I can't, I really can't, and I don't know what to do. But it's not like I have any real problems. I don't have the right to complain, really. I'm just that gross. Of course I realize that illnesses like depression and anxiety are just that, illnesses, and can affect absolutely anyone, regardless of problems real or imagined, and can't be fixed just by "trying harder," but here's the thing, I don't think I have either of those disorders. I'm convinced that this is all just a made-up phenomenon in my head, and if I could only get over my whiny pathetic self, I would be just fine. But why? Why do I want to be sick? I hate living in fear, and I hate living in general, and neither of those seem like things that would be in the least appealing. I don't understand in the least. All I know is that it just comes down to me not being good enough again. Just like everything else. If you look at my life right now, and don't look at it too hard, it looks pretty good. I'm about to transfer to UCLA (I've dreamt of going there since like seventh grade), I got a 3.8 for my final GPA (which I still hate myself for, but it's not terrible, especially since all I could think about this semester was dying), I have an internship this summer specializing in things I have experience with, I'm making money from my violin students, I have the world's longest summer vacation and plenty of free time to do whatever I want, my friends miraculously still seem to like me, and doesn't everything seem peachy? But I can't be happy about any of it no matter how hard I try. Then I feel guilty, but that doesn't help anything, so I feel worse, and then we're off to the races again. I feel guilty for existing, basically. I'm sure my family doesn't really want me here. I mean, I try to help as much as I can, whether by cleaning people's messes or just being as pleasant as possible all the time, but in the end, I know I'm just a giant burden, and no matter how much I try to make everyone's lives pleasant, it will never make up for the strain of my existence upon the world. Is this me not seeing things clearly as a symptom of whatever's wrong with me, or is it real? I don't know. But it feels real enough to me that I can't get over it. However, even though I think it would be the best option if I died, I can't, because of the embarrassment it would cause my poor family trying to explain it. It's just not socially acceptable to be an upstanding member of society and have a relative who killed herself, you know? And besides, I'm afraid. Isn't that stupid? I'm not even afraid of what comes after death, no, come what may, I'll face it, because I'm sure after I die, my irrational fears of everything will disappear, but I'm so afraid of the pain. Yeah, I'm afraid of pain, me with my tapestry of self-inflicted scars that are only now just beginning to heal. Isn't it ridiculous? And what if whatever I did didn't work, and I was left damaged the rest of my life? And what if I lost my dignity? There are so many things I'm afraid of, and they all seem so stupid. It convinces me more than anything that my so-called "illness" must be fake. Just like me! I really don't know what to do anymore. This can't be any way to live.