It's suffocating here. All this talk about work that needs to be done during Spring Break, talk about finding a summer job, getting a driver's license, all these expectations that I cannot fulfill. The pain and confusion that I feel when reading about Bella's thoughts of her wedding is strange. Strange enough to make me not want to read about the rest of it. I don't really want to be reminded of my relationship status. What am I really? I haven't worn my engagement ring for months. I pretend it doesn't exist even though I know that it does exist in the back of my mind. I am so cruel to him, saying mean things, being self-centered, yet he's still with me, ready to forgive all those cruel words, actions, everything. Ready to comfort me when I'm about to go crazy and feel the urge to kill myself.

I really don't know how much of this I can take anymore. I don't know what I want in life. A successful career? A house with a couple of kids? I don't know, don't really care. I just hate the way I feel about myself, about everything that's happening in my life.

I feel like I've stumbled somewhere along the line and can't stand up. I can't get away from this darkness that's caught me again. It's so dark where I am. So dark that I just want to close my eyes forever and ever. I don't need a fairytale ending. I don't need anyone to save me and bring me back to the good side. I just want someone to stop everything for me.

All the accidents in the world, and none happen to me. I wouldn't mind. Really. Drive-by shootings, bring it on. It doesn't take much to make me happy, but it doesn't take much to break me. I measure myself by the reactions of others, by the grades that I get, by what I believe people perceive of me. I just cannot accept my own imperfections because I want myself to be perfect. The perfect life. Educated with a career, married with kids. That's what it means to be successful right? To be happy?

I just want all of this to end. Please, I'm begging you. Please.

I'm still struggling with how I feel about myself and my school work. I know I'm not failing, but the stress makes me wonder if this is worth it in the end. I have highs and lows throughout the day and it's rather crazy when I can be happily talking to people in my class, but be on the verge of crying when I'm commuting home.


Am I happy? No, I am not. I think it's cause I don't feel like I'm in control of things. I still feel depressed more often than not. I worry about getting that internship I applied for this year.

This is the third weekend that I've felt...depressed. Lack of motivation. Lack of getting things accomplished. Lack of moving anything. It feels like it's slowly eating me away. Everything I worked so hard to build up, my self-esteem, my sense of worth, all just slowly deteriorating.

I don't feel pretty anymore. I don't wear nice clothing. What's the point when you'll just get chemicals all over it or it'll make you so warm that you'd feel like passing out. There's no point in being pretty. Dressing in nice clothing. Making your hair pretty. You'll just have to tie it up. I hate it. I hate it a lot. I hate not feeling good about myself. Whoever said that you can be a size 12 and still be pretty is a lie. Maybe if you started as a size 20+ or something.

Food doesn't make me happy anymore. The less I eat the better. Sweets make me sick. They hurt my stomach and I'm left with guilt over the calories they hold. It's silly, though. I don't want to be like Poppy's sister. I really really don't.

I really like Poppy's story. It's nice to read about two very different people growing up in extraordinary circumstances trying to help each other and find love. My favourite part has been when Poppy tries to bleed herself (note: the wrist is a bad area to do it, silly) and she wakes up angry that she's alive. Angry that they saved her. She's lucky, you know. She can blame her necrosis on her deteriorating family. It's like kids who are messed up from divorce. The reaction is like, "Poor kid. Probably traumatized and neglected from the divorce."

Me? Nothing wrong with my family. Nothing broken. We just don't love each other in a North American kind of way. We love each other through money, not words. I have nothing to blame my necrosis on! It's frustrating because there's nothing that I can blame but myself!

Another beautiful story is from Princess when Skador's mother starves herself to death (almost) because her lover Chad died (and thus lost her will to live). Then she ends up drinking poison since she was dieing too slowly for what's-his-name. There's just something beautiful about the scene where she pretends to be happily amongst her children, only to toss the food she brings along into an empty tree trunk. It's morbidly beautify, to die for love.

Gwad, I really really tried not to fall back into my old habits at university. It's week 5 in the semester and I'm struggling like no tomorrow. I have no motivation to do this anymore. I feel like I can't do this!

I want to quit. Really.

I've been really unhappy for the past couple of weeks and my mental health is the shit. My family is driving me insane. I have no friends in Toronto. I feel like I'm trapped in the house. I've become slightly obsessed with counting calories. My mother keeps dictating what I eat and questioning everything I eat. Then she goes and tells me to eat some chocolates and that she bought cake.

Every now and then, the voice in my head tells me that I have no will to live either.

I hate my family. My brother blasts the same five seconds of video on the tv at maximum volume over and over again. I think he gets off on it in whatever way a 16 year old guy with the mentality of a six/seven year old can have. My mother told me he's just trying to get attention. I think not.

My mother does not care for anyone but herself. At the dinner table, it's like a competition of how little she can eat. There's no joy in eating. She's always the first one to finish. Always the one tell my brother that he's fat, that he should stop eating. When she finishes eating before I do, it's like saying "you eat a lot". When she has nothing better to say to me, she asks what I ate. Guess she might want to judge how fat I'm going to be. She's horribly insensitive too. My dad's been working 7 days a week 8+ hours a day and she makes no effort for the house to be quiet after 9pm so my dad can sleep more than 5 hours. No consideration for others. Doesn't care about anyone but herself and her little friend's flattery.

My dad plays no role in my life except the money provider. No one in my family can tell you what my favourite colour is, my goals in life, favourite tv show or anything personal about me.

But I feel the need to be perfect so they can feel like they have the perfect family. Not the type of family to be like, "I feel sad. So sad I want to kill myself."

I just want their approval. I want to be acknowledged. I want to be loved and held precious. I want them to accept me even if I'm not perfect, not good enough, never good enough. No, I'll never be good enough. Marks are never good enough because I don't have a job lined up. Because I'm not your over achieving child with scholarships, impressive resumes and summer jobs lined up.

I can't be perfect, but I feel like the teachers at school want me to be perfect. I have two years to learn to be perfect. You need to be perfect on the job. Make no mistakes. Your career cannot afford mistakes. Perfection is a horrible, horrible word indeed.

Because I'm not perfect. Far from it. I break at the slightest pressure.

Life isn't a romance story. There's no one to push you to the ground when you try to jump. People will do nothing but stare. Be annoyed that they'll be late for school/work/where ever they need to be.

I wish I smoked. I wish I did drugs. I wish I drank until my liver hated me. I wish I had something to take me away. Take my mind off things. Take me away from it all. Whore myself to live because then I'd be useful to someone. Make them feel good. My goal in life would be to live to the next day. That's simple. Simple-no-real-thinking-involved kind of nice.

omg. I swear, I'm going to break soon. Tons of self-loathing, self-hatred, horribly depressed kind of thing going on. Ate way too much chocolate today (not good for my diet). Gawd, I feel like killing myself badly. If only I had the courage to do so. I read a story the other day where a character tried to, with a razor and I felt...envious of that character. It takes courage to try to hurt yourself.

It's amusing when I tell the boy I feel depressed and his response is, "is there anything I can do?" Interestingly, the answer in my mind is always, "please kill me."

In a way, I'm too old for these feelings. I'm not some angsty teenager anymore. Yet, they've haunted me for what seems like forever. I still don't like people. I still don't understand normal society. I don't fit into my class. I don't feel like I fit in anywhere.

Everytime the subway comes to the station, there's this wonder that blossoms within me asking what it would feel like to jump. Everytime I wait at the bus stop and a car passes, I wonder what it would be like to jump in front of it. Yet, I haven't gathered the courage to do it. Silly, really.

What would it be like to put myself out of this misery that we call living?

Man, I'm stressed. I haven't done any real studying for the past couple of days. And I feel like I'm either going to kill myself or take a knife and start screaming bloody murder to the folks around me.

I'm slowly starting to understand the mentality of the dude to stabbed a stranger on the bus over the summer. The stranger probably did something irritating, like coughing or yaking on the cell phone. It really doesn't take much to provoke an aggravated individual.

I love big cities. You can cry all you want on the subway and no one will care even if they see you. Won't ask if you're okay. Nothing.

Like I said before, lots of people die in accidents unwillingly, take me instead of them and i'd be grateful. Seriously. Save the other folks some grief.

I just can't take this anymore.