She was in the book store. Either she didn't see me or she completely ignored me, either of which is fine with me. f%&$#@g bloody hell. I wouldn't even be still on speaking terms with her if I wasn't so alone.
If I wasn't so sensitive to hate and lies about me nobody cares about. Wussyness and self-blame. Damn my conscience! No doubt it was all because of me, but she didn't have to turn on me. Like everyone else did. Not that things couldn't have been anymore awkward before that. All people are just depressing.
Not as if I needed extra reminder of things. I don't know. It won't ever work. You know it, I know it. It's like I'm frozen and I can't feel my body. The world still doesn't seem real. It never has. Very few people seem more than robots. I want to bleed. I can't tell anyone. Nobody can hear me. Maybe they can see.
People don't get it. They always say the next day will be better. But it's never better. I've been waiting and working for god knows how long… it just gets worse. Talk to friends? I don't have any friends. Even if I did… talking. Yeah. Tomorrow is just an extension of today separated by a few joyful hours of death-like sleep.
I wish I was Japanese so I could seek out Wataru Tsurumi's Complete Manual. It would help me ferret out the best option.
I guess what I'm going to do is someday find a job and save up my money so I can go to Aokigahara and go where no one will ever find me. And that will be the end.