This is stupid. I can't believe I am even writing this right now, I can't believe anything anymore. Things are going nowhere , my life is going nowhere. Day after day, it's always the same thing. Day after day nothing seems to change. Where is this going to take me? I am putting on this sherade for everyone, I don't feel that anything has a meaning anymore, I don't feel anything good. My days are filled with laughter, smiles... excuses, deep breaths, and constant thoughts about things I really don't want to be thinking about. I feel like I am out of control of my life... like it is all planned out for me and I have no say in which direction I am heading. I break down into tears so much now but everything seems so perfect. Wat the hell is wrong with me? I seem to have the perfect life... but there is so much pressure , so many responsibilites, so many things to live up to. It's starting to seem pointless.



I don't know what is going on inside my head anymore. I have been really good... haven't cut in a couple of days... really the only thing that is stopping me is the scars that I will acquire... which is weird because that has never really bothered me before.


Sometimes I don't understand why I try so hard. I got my first good report card in school in like three years (90% average) and then I stop trying. I stop going to class, I stop caring. What the hell is going on in my head? I have been screwing everything up so much lately, and I am trying to help everyone else with their problems, because they make more sense to me... unlike what I am going through I can see it at a rational level... I get to find out if I have a brain tumour tomorrow... wonderful (wow, that was really random!) It's probably nothing, I am a bit of a hypochondriac!
Work is really fucking me over, my boss is mad at me and she's isn't a very nice person to begin with. I guess I am going to stop complaining... so much shit is going down, that it doesn't even feel that it is worth explaining anymore... I just want to go out and get stoned so at least then I won't cut my arms up. (goddamn random arm checks...) More later...

Today is the day that marks three years since the first time that I remember cutting. I can pick out the exact scar on my arm, can remember wondering if I needed stitches and if I did, what I would say to my mom. I don't remember cutting before that, although I know I did, because I have flashes of images in my mind, of wrapping my arm in paper towel and explaining why I was wearing a long sleeve shirt in the summer. 3 years... that's a really long time. wow.