je te déteste

My friends are driving me crazy.

Literally.

I had a massive panic attack in class today because Jules is just… treating me like shit. And it's beginning to affect my mental health. I do not know what to do. Because fuck, I love her, but dammit.

I cannot handle anymore of this shit.

I know I need to see my therapist, who I haven't seen in like three weeks, and I need to up my meds, and I need to do about a thousand different things to help my cope, but I can't right now. I just want to curl up in a ball.

It's like last summer, except a thousand times worse because I can't escape to my room and hide for days. I have to go to school every day and see people.

I've been writing stuff on my arm, just as a way to remind myself of what I love. Quotes from my favourite books, etc. But sometimes, it's just not enough.

"Want what you can have," my elbow says. Yeah.

"Life chooses us; we do not choose it," my forearm warns.

And finally, the best; "je te déteste." That is my life in a fucking nutshell.

a little regret

After that last embarrassing post, I suppose I should try and post something uplifting and beautiful. But really, I'm having a hard time thinking of anything that is either uplifting or moving. My life is monotonous these days, and I have no motivation to make something cheerful up in order to put a salve on my ego. This last weekend was good, I suppose, but it was still marred by little moments of insanity that were, frankly, humiliating. Saturday night I went off the wall, and my parents almost drove down to LA to pick me up. I'm glad they didn't, but at the same time, I was so glad that they were finally listening. But after I finally revealed what was wrong, my mother is still saying things like "you have to pretend like you're perfectly even if you're a little blue…" A little blue? A little blue? I cannot even begin to describe how much of an understatement that is. She's suffered with depression herself, a little blue doesn't even encompass a fraction of the myriad of hellholes I've dug myself into.

So on Saturday, after crying for an hour straight, I ended up going out with some friends, and ended up macking it with some guy I didn't know, and felt so incredibly disgusting afterwards. I'm not a slut, and most of the time, I don't feel like a slut when I do things with boys I don't know. I don't think that's "sluttish," mostly because I'm discrete and don't go beyond the boundaries of propriety. But this time something just felt so weird about it, that afterwards, I sort of just closed my eyes and pretended I hadn't kissed him because the idea was just so insanely repulsive to me. It wasn't that he was ugly. It wasn’t that he wasn't a nice kid. It was just wrong all of a sudden. I don't get it, I really don’t.

still breathing.

He's still breathing— miracles of miracles.

And I can't believe that I'm so lucky to have him escape yet again. Does luck even play into it? I don't know.