if it kills me

I want to leave right now. I want to walk out my front door and go to a gig. i want to listen to music and make some acquaintances, i want to throw myself into a pit and have the shit beaten out of me to the rhythm of good music by new people, i want to run and jump and sing and scream and dance and go to the beach and wait there 'till morning, listening to the waves and the radio and feeling the wind and salt sting my face and i want to watch the sunrise and fucking live.

that's part of why i like staying up all night. you live through those hours no matter how sad or stressed or freaked the fuck out you are and then you look at the world opening it's bleary eyes and think I made it. i survived this day, i will survive the next and the one after that. i will survive the rest of my life and i will make it through this year if it kills me.

so. my mom took me to see a shrink yesterday. the whole day she kept on calling it a doctor's appointment if anybody else was in earshot, like she was fucking ashamed to have a kid that needed help. i mean, i get where she was coming from, but she's my mom. she's supposed to accept who i am, and if i need help, she shouldn't be so ashamed of that.

i slept for thirteen hours last night. i didn't sleep at all the night before. i don't want to be here. i'm tired.
i think it's going to rain soon. that'll be nice. i miss actual weather.

I am sick of my face. I am so fucking sick with waking up every morning, looking in the mirror and seeing this fucking face and the fucking person behind it. I hate her. She's such a fucking asshole and she's weak and fat and acne-ridden and so goddam annoying. I hate having to see her. I'm sick of her. I am sick of my fucking face. Why can't she just go the fuck away? I fucking hate who I am. fuck fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck shit eating pogo jumping jesus christ and his goddam cat. Why do people always say that you will stop hating yourself eventually, that it's just a phase? i have been going through 15 years, 3 months, and 5 days of this phase, and it doesn't seem like it's ending anytime soon. I hate who i was, i hate who i am, i have never been a tolerable person. just fucking kill me already. i want it to stop.

my dad left for a business trip this morning, and i watched him go with the unsettling feeling that he is going to die.

my father needs an oxygen compressor, which is basically a thing that filters air into its components, and sends oxygen to him via cannula. He is going to new jersey, and due to a few stupid complications, he cannot take his compressor, nor his oxygen tanks with him. whenever he goes for a long time without his oxygen, he turns blue because his respiratory system is incapable of providing his body with enough oxygen to keep its organs functioning.

i don't want my daddy to die.

Just FYI

I have to go camping. For a week. Starting tomorrow. I will spend seven days surrounded by drunk and angry family members while being sucked dry by mosquitoes. I will not be posting during that time, as I will have no internet access.

I expect I am going to be doing a lot of reading.

Hello, Happiness, my old friend. Did you miss me?

I feel good. I feel happy. I know it's just a mood swing, in a few minutes my mind will turn against me, but I don't really have the ability to care. A lot of things are going well in my life. I've lost weight, I cut my hair, I'm seeing friends tomorrow for swimming and horror movies, life feels manageable for the first time in a while.

Next spring I'm going on a trip to the UK with some of my schoolmates and fellow literature enthusiasts. I am going to spend ten days surrounded by books and rain and fantastic accents, and by fantastic accents, I mean fan-fucking-tastic accents. We are going to Scotland for part of it.

I am happy, and I don't really have much more to say about it.

i know you're all getting tired of my shit, but i have to do this.

i don't want to be here. it would be so easy, you know? like falling asleep. i swear i can feel something. something dark. i want to call it a demon, but it doesn't feel like a demon. it feels like a hug. like there's something there, just beyond the cusp of my reality and it's wrapping its arms around me and whispering sweet nothings into my ear, just holding me and comforting me, hooking its chin over my shoulder and snaking warm, strong arms around me and keeping the broken pieces of myself together, but every time i try to get closer, there is nothing there.  i'm tired of there being nobody there. for once i want somebody to not have to ask, to just hold me because if you ask, i'll say i'm fine, but i'll be lying. i want somebody to just know.