I feel exhausted even though I’ve done nothing of strain today. Each day seems like a brand new battle, and to be honest, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to go on with all of this. My desires are stronger than ever. I try to decide how I’ll do it. Where. Who would find me. It’s never been this bad before. I guess I fooled myself into believing I was over it, that I could always hold my head above water no matter what. All I want now is to sink and get lost in the dark, cold water. I want to see nothing, and I want the few emotions I can feel anymore to just fade away.
I have no time alone at this point either, which only seems to bring about mood swings that I don’t want to deal with. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a house that is all quiet. I understand now why it’s the solitude I crave and also why I feel so terrible when I don’t have it. It’s a bit like a regular person when you think about it. If some social butterfly was locked away from human contact for a few years they would wind up pretty fucked up too. So I’m just the opposite: the more human contact, the deeper I crawl into myself to get away. Unfortunately with my problem there is little chance I’ll get what I want. People are everywhere. No matter how far I walk into the woods I can still find people, still be bothered to give directions or to talk with some stranger who wants to know what a girl is doing out in the woods. People pry, they ask stupid questions. They have to look at you with those eyes of theirs and examine you, probe you with their mediocre and below-average intellect, all the while pretending to be oh so much better. So much more worth time and effort. And yeah, maybe I’m not worth it. Maybe realists aren’t worth saving sometimes, not when they are so far gone as I seem to be. I’m not striving to be a social ideal, I’m not striving to have a fulfilling life, so I must not be worth anything at all. Of course no one ever stops to think that perhaps not all of us find heaven in petty relationships and white collar jobs. Maybe not all of us are willling to walk around pretending to be above average, when we know better. Or maybe the world has just succeeded in making me bitter.
I’m taking normal classes at college now, lecture rooms and all. My two teachers are pretty decent, my psychology teacher especially. I’ve been emailing her my questions, which instead of brushing off like a lot of my teachers have, she actually takes the time to try and give me the answers I’m searching for, even if she has to type an entire page. I think I’d forgotten that there are people out there who acutally care. What a realist I am…I’m bordering on nihlism and pessimism at this point. I’ve also found out that with the degree I was getting, the bachelor’s degree, I can’t do any counciling. Would have been more pleasantly accepted if my advisor had taken the time to explain that part. Basically a bachelor’s degree in psychology will just serve as an achievment to wave in an employer’s face and hope for the best. In order to do any sort of counciling, even the less formal kind, you have to have a master’s degree and be specialized in some particular branch of psychology. I’ll never be able to get a master’s degree. First I’m not going to be able to survive all the statistic classes and other numerous math classes, secondly I don’t know if I could mentally handle another 3 years of school (it’s supposed to take 2 more in addition to the 4 of the bachelor’s degree, but I take too few classes to go at that pace), and third, my parents could never afford that. They can barely afford it now even though I’m in a community college. So any ideas about doing anything more hands on is out the window at this point. I would have to get a job and then try to juggle school at the same time, but with my lack of enthusiasm for school already I’m all too aware that it would probably just succeed in making me follow my more dark urges. I’m not going to push my already slim luck by furthering my boredom and hatred for being alive and breathing, and giving myself more reason to not want to exist.
I need help, I can see that now. But like always I’m unwilling to reach out for it. Besides, if anyone said point blank, “I want to help you”, I’d tell them to leave me the hell alone. No one would ever try anyway. It’s been let’s see…6 years of depression and not once, in all of that time, has anyone ever realized just how bad off I am inside. It makes me want to hate them for all those times where I did want help but was never given any. Those times my dad laughed at me for crying, or how my mom always thinks that she can tell when I don’t feel well. What if I feel bad all of the time, Mom? What if I can’t cry anymore, Dad? And my friends who thought they knew so much about life, or that they actually knew who I was…. Such a waste. All of it has been such a waste. All that time I spent trying to make everyone happy was for nothing. I’ve stopped talking to every last friend. But I know it doesn’t matter now. I don’t want medication, I don’t want to sit in a chair and let some moron try to dissect me. It’s over. That time of neediness and comfort is over. I’ll never again go back to that, no matter how much I want it.
I’m meant to be alone; it’s my blessing and my curse.