I have come to the point where I dread sleep yet look forward to it. Not sure that makes sense. At this time of day, I want to just crawl into bed and sleep the rest of the day away. When it gets late and it's actually time to go to bed, I crawl under the covers and pray I'll sleep through the night and not dream. Even in my dreams, I can't find solace. They are either too perfect or horrible. So either way, I wake up sad or whatever.
I doubt anyone misses me at the Christian group. It's been two weeks and I just wanted someone to care that I wasn't there. I feel like this other group is just being nice to the me I let people see. I fear after they get to know me and know I carry around depression like an elephant, I'll have to stop going there too.
I'm just so tired of pretending and having to wear a mask. This time of year is hard for me: my grandma passed away this time and the passing of my cousin would have been a year in December. She wanted to live and fight…why couldn't I have died instead of her?
I feel the two days I went without one of my medications is still affecting me. Oh well, I'm not stranger to pain and sadness. I just want to look forward to more than sleep or not even that.
I really wish I could gather up the courage to end my life…I have nothing to look forward to or live for. Everyone BUT me wants me to keep fighting. How many times do I have to say how tired I am? How many more times will I have to hide because my feelings are treated like taboo?
13 days until I see my psychiatrist. Oh boy what will he say when I tell him all that I've been experiencing? Or do I tell him? I feel like every time I go in there, I have to be mindful of a line that mustn't be crossed. If I wasn't in school and didn't have student loans breathing down my neck, I'd be honest with him and risk my freedom. How I managed to stay out of the hospital for nearly four years, I don't know. Maybe it's time I go back in or get myself put there. I don't know why I bother blogging here and any where. I feel like my complaints and pain fall on deaf ears. Maybe if I can secretly plan things out, I will be successful. Like making sure I am Not at school and I am at home instead. As for my method…there's only really one way and even this way isn't a guarantee.
It's so stupid, I can't even be totally honest here, with the government monitoring everything. I can just see them coming to my door and preventing me from trying anything.
The way I feel now…I dread talking to my parents but thanks to my big mouth–saying I don't feel like myself–they'll probably wonder why I don't want to talk.
I can't even bring myself to cry–that is now I know it's bad. If I could cry, I'd have a shred of relief.
I'm beginning to think I don't belong in either Bible-related group. I am too f***ed up and too unstable.
Part of me really wants help but with my parents an hour away, I guess I have to just suffer.


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