I forgot to bring my medication with me when I came to school this week, and I think I'm already feeling the effects. And it's not like I was doing splendidly before either. Why is my brain doing this to me? I mean, enough should be enough, right? Maybe I should just go to bed. But I kind of don't want to, because both my roommates are out partying in the hall with the rest of the geniuses on my floor, and I don't want to look like a narcoleptic loner sleeping in here all by myself. Like, that's no fun at all, right? Also, I really need to be doing some linguistics stuff, but I can't seem to concentrate on anything right now, so I'm procrastinating it, but then I know I have to do it, so I can't sleep yet. Oh yes, and I need to be studying for my anthro midterm too. And that's the story, folks. What am I to do here? My life is like a barrel of mold and disappointment. (That was a really nice and poetic simile, just saying) Should I march out into the hall and demand that people start paying attention to me and give me alcohol? Not that they have any, probably, as it's illegal to have in the dorms, but maybe it would appeal to their bibulous lifestyles and make them love me deeply. Oh, my socialite roommate just came in and invited me to join them all out in the hall, and I immediately refused, like the wretched recluse that I am. Why do I do these things? Why am I me? Man, I really have to shape up here, or I'm going to end up as lonely as the unpaired rounded back vowel. At least I have nice eyebrows. That ought to count for something, right? If you have nice eyebrows, it's much easier to be rude and antisocial and mysterious and get away with it (a good wardrobe helps immensely as well). Speaking of which (sort of) I cut my bangs over the weekend, and now they're kind of short, and on one hand, I have the potential to look fierce, but on the other hand, I'm now possessed of too-short bangs, and I'm not sure if I actually look good or not. As always, people keep staring at me wherever I go, only now there's a friendly sort of flavor to it, and I'm not sure if it's because I'm adorable, or because I'm pitiably ugly. When I was getting dinner yesterday, some dude randomly told me that he liked my bangs, and that's an indication that I don't look good, because he was probably being sarcastic, right? But then again, maybe he was just hitting on me and not doing a very good job of it. I don't know, man! This is all so difficult. If only I could be sure that I look good, then I would feel at least 50% better about my life! Maybe I just have to embrace my inner beauty and accept myself as the majestic and flawless masterpiece that I am without any negative judgement allowed, and everything will be all sparkles and sunshine and daisies and Renoir's version of Impressionism. I know some people at a certain mental hospital who would be terribly enthused about that idea. But in the meantime, I have to contend with the joys of dorm life, and I have not the faintest idea how I'm going to go about doing that. Perhaps I should ask my cheery compatriots for some potations after all.

So I've started school now, and it's really not as bad as one might think! My classes are very interesting (although my anthropology teacher has an annoying habit of hating on linguistics at every possible opportunity, and naturally I take this very personally), and I've figured out where they are, so I don't have to lead quite so early in the morning to account for getting lost. It's still a bit of a struggle getting back to my dorm sometimes, but I think I'm on the right track now. Oh, and the people are lovely for the most part! My roommates are not weird, and they're both transfers and are older than I am (because I'm a year younger than all the other transfer students), and we all get along well. The people in my hall are also very nice (except for one, but that's okay, there's always one), and I've been managing to talk more and be a little more social, so I'm understandably proud of myself for that. What I'm not proud of is my diet, because I can palpably feel the eating disorder coming back and taking over, so I definitely have to do something about that, but goodness me, the place is a breeding ground for disease. If I didn't have anorexia coming in, I probably would coming out. No, that's not true, it's not hard to keep healthy, it's just the people I hang around with, especially one of my roommates. She acts almost like I do, and I think it's pretty unhealthy. But I'm not sure what to do, beyond encouraging her to eat healthy things, because it's difficult (not to mention awkward) to intervene in someone's life in such a personal way. If it gets any worse, and I can see beyond a shadow of a doubt that she's struggling with real health issues, of course I will have to step in somehow, but as it is, I'm still hesitant. What would you do? It's a sticky situation.
Diet problems aside, I'm doing much better with everything than I was in Ohio, I think. Although I haven't yet joined any music organizations, whether for credit or otherwise, and it's getting a little late, so I'm getting worried. But I'm not sure where to go! How do people find these things out? I'm pretty sure all the auditions have passed already, so that's another obstacle. Or would they let me audition later, maybe, if I exhibited a positive can-do attitude? Maybe I could talk to multiple groups and join the nicest one. But then they might be really bad. Oh dear. I just don't know what to do! This is one of those situations where I just need to get in there and do something, and coincidentally, one of those situations where I show myself to my worst advantage. It's very difficult for me to act without ruminating for awhile, and that's okay I guess, but it does put a crimp on life sometimes. Perhaps I belong in academia after all.
Oh yeah, that reminds me! I've been thinking, maybe I could go into psychology. I know, I know– it's a pseudoscience and all, but with the state of the world as it is, mental health is a lucrative profession. My only problem is that everyone else can see this too, so I would have a lot of competition, but still, it might be something I could do. This isn't random though, or purely motivated by acquisitiveness. I think I would be good at it, because even though I can't solve my own problems, I'm very good at thinking through how other people can solve theirs. Just because I can't seem to put things into practice in my own life doesn't mean I don't know them, and plus, I'm an excellent listener. And okay, truth to be told, I was a little inspired when I went to the program. Everyone there was so good, and they seemed to love what they were doing so much, and I hate to admit it, but they helped me quite a bit. Just think of what they could do with someone who was actually willing to be there! Since I have all these problems, shouldn't I do some good with them and help other people who are going through the same thing? It seems like it's the right thing to do. But then again, how helpful would I really be if I was struggling so much in my own life? It would really be a case of physician heal thyself– I just hope my patients wouldn't try to take me for an example. Or maybe that's better, because I could tell them conclusively what not to do. Well now, I don't know. But it's a thought.
I was supposed to see my bae today (since I'm home for the weekend), but his car broke down, so he can't come over, and Mom was too busy to drive me to his house. This is one of those times when I really wish I had my license. I miss him, man! Even though it's only been a week since I've seen him, it's felt like longer. He's such a calming and lovely presence in my life, like the foundation of a well-built house, or a nice fuzzy comforter (probably those were not the most romantic comparisons I could have made, but I think they were very sweet, personally). How is it possible for anyone to be so patient and kind and good-hearted? He's unbelievable! (In a good way that is, but still) Last Friday, we had a fight, and when I said we, I mean I, since I was the only one doing any fighting. Man, I was really going at it, and mind you, I'm one of the most easy-going people ever, but bless my soul, if he didn't get my blood flowing! You see, I thought he was going against my feminist ideology (for lack of a better description), and I really couldn't have that. I'm not sure I want to align myself with today's feminist movement because of several problematic issues that I've seen, but I have passionate beliefs that at least parallel theirs in most regards, and if you mess with that, I'm not going to take it. Then, he made the mistake of saying something not very friendly towards the MOGAI movement, and everything really went down in flames. I can't condone that, you know? Fortunately, the first bit was a misunderstanding, and the second bit was ignorance, since although he is very supportive towards marginalized people, he doesn't really know a lot, so he didn't mean any harm at all, and after I set him straight, he was fine. And I never stay mad for long, so after I cooled down, we talked about it, and I was so amazed by how nice he was! He didn't make me apologize, and he didn't get mad, and he didn't say that I "wasn't worth his forgiveness" as my sister's horrible boyfriend says to her frequently, and basically, everything was great (I didn't apologize by the way, because I don't think I did anything wrong) (except maybe act a little impolite, but he doesn't mind that). I think you can tell a lot about a person by how they handle conflict, and he seems to handle it pretty well. Of course he's not perfect, but he's miles ahead of some, and that's a good sign. So anyway, that was a really long-winded illustration of his lovely personality, and how lucky I am! Although I guess I could be luckier at the moment, because I would really like to see him, but there's always tomorrow!
I should go to bed now, because I'm yawning like some kind of oxygen fiend, and I have to get up early for church tomorrow anyway, so I'll sleep now. Although I might play some calming game first, I don't know. At this point, I need all the aid in sleeping that I can get. Okay, goodnight!

I feel like it's been a really long time since I wrote anything. And I'm sure you're all wondering about my fascinating life, so here I am to provide insight into the beauty and joy that surrounds me daily.
So, it's been a little more than a month since I started treatment, and I'm finally in intensive outpatient instead of partial hospitalization, and let me tell you, my life has improved by at least 50% just from that alone. Now I don't have to get up at 7 in the morning anymore, and it's wonderful. I still have to spend my time eating copious amounts of dubiously tasteful food and talking about my feelings though, so I'm not sure just how positively we can qualify the improvement. Still, as I always say, the more time I spend asleep, the better. Speaking of which (sort of), I finally started medication, and it's so nice. Honestly, I have no idea why I didn't just bite the bullet (or tablet) and take it earlier, because it's really great. At the moment, I'm on two meds at fairly low doses, but tomorrow I'm going to talk to my psychiatrist about increasing them if I can, since my symptoms haven't decreased as much as I would like. Still, I'm very happy with the outcome, and it's really great not to be suicidal anymore. I'm a firm believer now; I think everyone should go on medication.
On October 2nd, I'm going to start school, and honestly, I'm very scared. How am I going to manage this? What if I'm bombarded by weird people? What if I am a weird people? Oh goodness me, I'm not sure I'm up to this. At least my classes are going to be interesting. Although they only let you sign up for three at first, which is weird (but understandable, given the immense size of the student population), so I'm not going to be very busy at all, even if I get my fourth class later. But I like my selection, and I think it's going to be a fun quarter. I'm taking art history, anthropology, and a linguistics class (which is at a higher level than the one the other ling transfers have to take, so I'm pleased with OSU's course selection), and Chinese, if I can get it. You see, I have to take two languages here, and although I have almost enough credits to be done with Spanish (I have to take one more course), I still need another language, and it can't be Indo-European. And since we've all been trying to learn Chinese for years, and X is taking it for free at Columbia (oh the perks of being a Juilliard student), I figure it's a good choice. I still can't talk to my relatives though, since they all speak Cantonese. Ah well. At least I can work for the government.
Tonight, as many other nights prior, I spent my time with the bae, being all adorable and murmuring sweet nothings into each other's ears and arguing about the economy and all that cute stuff that couples do. He's such a diehard Democrat, and that's great, but man, he is so hardheaded sometimes. Arguing with him about the free market for example, wow that is really difficult. He is persuaded that the more the government intervenes, the better everything will be, and nothing will convince him otherwise. Oh dear, oh dear, I can't believe I'm dating a Keynesian! No, but he's very lovely, and I even watched football with him, so that's how you know it's real. There are about five hundred things I care more about than whether or not the Giants will beat the Redskins (for example, whether or not the Redskins will change their name to something that's not a racial slur), but if I think of it as an epic reenactment of the Battle of Five Armies, I can pull through. And now I know enough to hold a decent conversation, so maybe all is right in the end.
It's pi time, by which I mean it's 3:14 AM, so I really should probably go to bed. I have the pleasure of treatment to look forward to tomorrow, and I really wouldn't want to oversleep and miss any of that! Actually, I did that today. Dad took a nap too, and forgot to wake me up, so it was all bad all around. But my treatment team wasn't too bent out of shape about it, fortunately. Still, I really should get to sleep. Perhaps I will play one round of Candy Crush before I hit the hay. That game is so addictive, I swear. If only they would grant me more than five lives at one time. It's probably good for me to be limited though. Well-p, time to head off! I will talk about myself more later, never fear. It's always honesty hour here. Okay, goodnight!

I'm never not anxious, and I hate it. Why can't I just calm down for a little bit? Nothing's going to happen. I mean, come on gurl, get it together. Although actually, maybe now I can get it together, because I just started Lexapro, and I'm looking forward to see what will happen and if it will help me. It shouldn't be such a rad experience for me, but I'm super excited anyway. But you know what I'm not excited about? My therapy hospital treatment program tomorrow! (Is a therapy hospital a thing? It sounds much better than calling it a mental hospital, I think) Wow, I really hate it already. Everyone is creepily peppy, and it has all the trappings of a cult, complete with special jargon, special food, a no-cell phone policy, and a dress code. Like, what are they trying to pull here? Maybe it's all motivation for us to get better and leave quickly. If it's not that, then I just don't know what to say, because it's all pretty terrible. They make us eat so much, and all in a group too, and then we have to sit around in said group and talk about our feelings, I mean, come on is there anything conceivably less conducive to my comfort? I don't deny that I probably do need help, since if what they say is true, my heart is on its way out because of bad nutrition, but I really don't think this is the right way to go about it. That begs the question of what is the right way, and to tell you the truth I'm not sure, but I can say with all the certainty I possess that this isn't it. I'm pretty sure it's just going to make things worse, and I feel so guilty, because I know my family did expend some effort in getting me here, but I did warn them that I didn't think this was for me, and they didn't listen, so maybe it's not entirely my fault. Still, I do feel pretty bad, because I feel like I'm faking my problems or something, and I don't deserve this, and I don't even want it, so I really don't deserve it, and man, I dunno, I have very mixed feelings about it all. All I know is that I dread every day like 90% more now, and I didn't even know that was possible, so I guess that's sort of amazing in a way, but I wish some of the amazement in my life would be of the good kind for once. It's so hard to make myself go through all this; I don't really even care about my health anymore, I just want to stop putting in so much effort for so little result. I feel a bit like Sisyphus from the old Greek myth, actually, just pushing through one horrible day only to start all over again the next. All I ever looked forward to through this whole horrible excuse for a summer was staying up late and watching Netflix until I stopped feeling so desperately bad and my mind could finally turn off, but I can't even do that anymore, and when even that's gone, what am I even here for? There's no relief from any of this, and I really hate it. If I weren't in this program, things might not be any better, but I would think they were, and that would count for a lot. I'm not sure what's more important here, my mental health or my physical health (if the program is indeed helping my physical health, which I doubt). But I am sure that I want to find some other way to fix things. In this case, I think the costs far outweigh the benefits.

A teatime chat with me

I'm drinking passion flower tea because it's supposed to have soporific qualities, but it's rather bitter. Maybe I let it steep too long? I wonder if it would be improved in any way if I put in a shot of brandy. It couldn't hurt, right? I'm going to try it.
It helped quite a bit, actually. Now it tastes like alcohol instead of medicine, and that's something I can go for. Plus, if I mix two sedatives, the effect should be twice as strong, right? I'm going to be knocked out like a light tonight (for once).
X just got back from his music camp, and it's lovely to see him and all, but he's developed quite the abrasive personality recently, probably because he thinks he needs it to fit in in New York, and when he's not being rude, he's bragging about his powerful charm and irresistible-ness to women (which is something of which he really shouldn't brag but anyway). And that's great, but it got old the first day he did it, and now I'm totally sick of it. Really, you're not supposed to tell your sister all the salacious details of your romantic encounters, for goodness' sake. Believe me, she doesn't want to know. Although it's true, I might be a little bit of a prude, because everyone else I know is more comfortable with a lot of these personal things than I am. To me, private stuff is private for a reason, and I get twitchy when anything too overt gets discussed too overtly. When it pertains to me, I try to be honest and everything, but still, ew. Anyway, at the moment, I feel like the unwanted member of the family even more than usual. All of us kids used to get along in a little club, and I guess we still do to some extent, but now I'm more or less the odd one out all the time, and I'm not sure if it's because something in the family dynamic has changed or because I'm isolating myself more or maybe both, but it's rather unpleasant. If you can't turn to your family, where are you supposed to go?
Today, my boo and I discussed breaking up, and it was terrible. Now I'm not sure what's going on. He's afraid that since I'm going to LA and he's staying here for another year that we won't get to visit enough and I'll lose interest in him, which obviously isn't happening, because if anyone's queen of difficult long-distance relationships, it's me, but I'm not sure how to reassure him of that. At any rate, we put off the discussion until we can talk in person on Thursday (since he started school already and his parents won't let him drive anywhere until class is done for the week, which is eminently sensible and laudable), and now he's acting like nothing's wrong, and I'm not sure what to do. Well, actually, he stopped texting me awhile back, and now I'm freaking out, but then again, that's so mething that he does (which isn't great for me, but I'm trying to be chill), so again, I don't know. What am I supposed to do here? I'm not that emotionally invested that breaking up would kill me, but I don't really want to, especially since it seems fairly unnecessary, but who knows. I'll just stop thinking about him and watch Star Trek or something.
Why is it so hot in here? This is insupportable. I need some ice powers here or something.
Speaking of which, I always get either ice/weather powers or super-intelligence whenever I take superhero tests, which leads me to believe that I would be a superb incarnation of the coolest superhero ever (pun intended) should exposure to gamma radiation ever come to pass. At this point, I'm not sure what my code name would be, but rest assured it would be extremely rad and memorable, yet classy and clever, and I would become a household word (in a good way).
Man, I love superhero stuff.
Tomorrow, I have to work, and I really don't want to. I know it's great that I'm building up my resume, and getting a fraction of minimum wage and everything, but I'm really sick of going to the conservatory. It's bad enough teaching my own students at my house, but this? This is a little excessive, I think! But it's probably good for me, since when I don't have to go out, I stagnate like a pile of tearful lawnmower clippings and lie around on the couch all day watching Netflix, and that doesn't exactly go far in making me into a useful member of society. Ugh. It's all so unpleasant though. How am I ever going to be employed later in life?
Oh yeah, I never wrote about this, but the knowledge of it is sitting in my stomach radiating dread throughout my entire being, so I might as well, and see if I can expunge the horror. So, all summer, my mom and my therapists have been trying to get me to go to a mental hospital, and they have finally succeeded, so on Wednesday, I have to go. Wait, that's a bit overdramatic. It's only outpatient after all, and I get weekends off. But it's still a mental hospital, and I really don't want to do this. What if they try to sell me drugs? What if they use me as a drug mule? What if they shank me? All I know about these things is that if I get out intact, I can write a trashy YA novel about it. I guess that's some motivation, but then again, what if my work doesn't sell? No, there's nothing good about this situation. Well, except for the getting better part. But to be honest here, I'm not sure that this will actually help me get better. It's meant to address the eating disorder, not the other stuff, and that's the one that I feel like I could tackle on my own. (Although then again I haven't been very successful in doing that, so maybe it is good) Basically, I'm really scared, and I don't think it will do any good, and what if it makes my problems worse? When I took health class as a freshman in high school, it made my eating disorder more pronounced, and it took me like a year to get over it (no thanks to any professionals, may I add). And now I'm much worse off than I was then, so I have more to lose, and I might actually end up hospitalized or something if this all goes off the road. Ugh, I feel so weird talking about this stuff. I absolutely don't want to have this problem (not that I want to have my other ones either, but at least I'm not as ashamed of those). I can't even call it by its proper name, I mean an eating disorder is bad enough, but if I were to go around proclaiming that I'd been diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, well that would just be insufferable wouldn't it? Even typing that made me cringe. Maybe I really should get me to a clinic. But what if it turns out like Orange is the New Black? I'm not sure I'm emotionally prepared to be a Piper Chapman! This is going to be a wreck, I know it.
I composed a letter to my department chairs at OSU tonight to tell them that I won't be back because of health reasons, and I'll be attending a university closer to home. Which is true. It's just that it's my mental health instead of physical. But that's just as important, and I think undervalued in this society of ours. But it's pretty sad, I mean I spent a whole year there, and it was an important time in my life (even though it was so difficult), and it's hard to just say goodbye to it like that. And things were just starting to look up too; I'd made some friends (well, like three, but you know), I'd just declared my second major, and I'd finally figured out that the business school was, in fact, part of the university. It just goes along with the reigning principle of my life that as soon as things get good, I leave. (Which, by the way, isn't something that I want to do, it just happens) I'm sure that as soon as I start wanting to live, I'll expire of a heart attack or something. Anyway, it seems that I'm well and truly embarked upon this new course in life, and that's kind of cool or something.
It's 2:39, and I'm done with my tea concoction, so I should probably go to bed. I'm actually sort of sleepy, so it must have worked. This is a scientific breakthrough. Isn't chemistry wonderful? Maybe tonight I will have happy dreams about covalent bonds and things. Okay, I really should get going, so goodnight, and I hope you all have a happier night than I did.

Loveliness

I got an iPhone! It's so pretty and shiny and lovely, and I love it like my newborn child (or at least I imagine if I had a newborn child my love for it would be comparable). Its name is Amaryllis (really it should be Daisy Bell like of my laptop because of Alexander Graham Bell, but my two children must have different names of course). Because I'm a total cheapskate, I bought it used off Amazon, and it's a 4, but that fits my Luddite personality, so I'm very okay with that. Now I can wander around pretending to be a rich person with a social life. It'll be great.
No really though. I'm super super excited.
I finished my chem class today! We had our final, and it was extremely easy, so I'm optimistic as to the outcome of the class. Although I do have to overcome that one 88% on the third test. But still. Oh yeah, I never mentioned that! So I was complaining before because I thought I'd gotten a B on one of the tests, but the person who graded it messed it up, and I actually got an A. So that was a bit counterproductive for me to do all that bellyaching, now wasn't it? Ain't gonna blame me tho; it was a B. Can't do nothin with that.
Now I have some stern advice for the world at large. When you're talking to a person with whom you have the possibility of romantic affiliation, you should not assume that their interest in you is contingent upon emotionless illicit encounters, because, sad to say, it probably is not. No, this person will act like the modern day equivalent of Sir Galahad at all times that he is in contact with you, and even when you are alone in an empty house together, he will conduct himself with such honor and purity that you will stand aghast in wonder. Then, late to the races as you are, you will be thrown off by his baffling chivalrousness and do sundry things to rectify your mistake, including, but not limited to, quoting Latin phrases at him, debating with him about the economy, and telling him your unsavory mental history. And though it seems inscrutable, none of these measures will work, and he will accept you as you are, and you will be left wondering what is happening in the world and what is wrong with the human race in general. This is where I am now, and I'll be durned if I know a dingity dang thing to do about it. If the world at large had any stern advice for me, I would rejoice to hear it.
It's rather late at the moment, but I don't feel at all tired. Still, I suppose I should go to bed, that being the right thing to do and all. I'll just wait until the music comes to a proper close, and then I'll go. After all, it wouldn't do to end on an unfinished note.
I'm not sure if I wrote about this already, but I'll write it anyway. So I got into the honors program at UCLA, and I'm excited, because that's really hard to do for transfer students, so I'm a little proud of myself right here. Mind you, I'm not sure what privileges my new position grants me, but I'm pretty sure extra library time is part of the package, and that by itself is worth it. Also, I get to take honors classes, and that's all anyone could ask of life. Not gonna lie, I'm going to be pretty sad to say goodbye to Ohio State, especially since I only recently declared my second major there, but really, it's UCLA, what are you going to do? I've wanted to go there for years. And who knows, maybe I can have another major anyway (even though I'll technically be a junior there, so I don't think I can declare one, but academia is a mysterious and beautiful thing and maybe things will work out). Even if I can't, though, I can still take more classes, since it's on the quarter system, so I'm sure I could take some English classes just for fun (and for the GPA boost) (not that I need it probably). So that's that. UCLA is splendid, and my future is rapidly becoming the present.
That sounded like I was trying to be poetic, and I really wasn't, so I sincerely apologize for that. It did sound nice though, didn't it?
Okay, I should probably go to bed now, so I'll bestir my weary bones and go. I hope I'm not awakened  unduly early tomorrow! Goodnight!

I should be studying or doing homework or something, but instead I'm drinking and trying to think of a reason why I should stay alive until tomorrow. It's harder than you might think. How can I possibly go to class tomorrow and joke around with the boys like nothing's wrong? And it's a lab day too, how am I supposed to get through that normally? I don't think it occurred to me before, but it's so so hard to keep up the pretense of being normal. Does everyone have to work at it so much, I wonder? I don't want to anymore. I'm sick of everything. But I have to. If I fake it 'til I make it, surely I'll make it sometime. Right?
At the moment, I really couldn't care less whether I live or die, and actually, if someone came bursting in through the door telling me that I was an enemy of the state and was now to be executed for treason against the government, I would be in their black van before they even finished pronouncing the sentence. What is there to live for? For me, I mean. I realize that there's so much beauty and goodness in the world that I can't see, and in the abstract, there are infinite reasons for someone to live, but none of that touches me at all. Nothing good will ever happen to me; I'll always be an outlier. I used to have hope, or at least I was beginning to, I think, but I don't know where it went– it's all gone. How can I ever be a functional person if the second I start to heal, I just dip back into fog again? I think I really need help, but I can't even help myself. Maybe I was born to die early (but it wouldn't really be early though, would it, because it would be my time to go). But what would I have accomplished? Everyone has a purpose, don't they? Maybe I don't. That's why I shouldn't be here; I was a mistake, the only person born without a purpose. Oh no, I don't like that. It seems so horribly reductionistic– if you don't have a purpose (dare I say it, a function), you shouldn't be alive. No, I can't believe in that. There's sanctity in all human life. But what about mine, then? According to my own principles, it would be completely tragic and wrong to take my life, but I see so many more pros than cons. I'm such a hypocrite! I preach a good game, but when it comes down to it, I play out something completely different. It's reprehensible, really, and it's horrendous logic too, and, you guessed it, it makes me hate myself even more. But I don't know how to set myself straight. I'm just lost, and I don't have any idea what to do to fix things.
Tomorrow is going to suck big time, but sadly, it's not that different from any other day. Every day is a struggle for me, and I think I'm losing. Maybe I really do need to be on medication. But no, I don't want to go down that path. Surely I can do this by myself. People did in the past. Although many of them killed themselves, now that I think of it. But still. I have an appointment with the psychiatrist on Friday, I guess I'll see what she says. Honestly, I sort of hope I'm imagining this all though, like for some reason I wanted to be ~special so I invented mental problems for myself, and some professional person can tell me the right thing, and I'll snap out of it. Wouldn't that be nice? Maybe it will happen. I guess I'll find out.