My mom, she doesn't get it.  She comes in and starts talking about her and chimes at church and feeling nervous and worrying about mistakes or something.  She keeps trying to apply it to me, implying or otherwise stating that I need to just stop worrying or something.  The most fundamental error, perhaps.

She doesn't get it.  The medication is a cure-all… otherwise it's all a matter of being happy and calming down or whatever.  Yeah.  If it only required me doing whatever and not caring, do you think I'd be as I am?  I barely tend to myself anymore (I have no reason to), does it look like I'm really concerned about what people think?  If I cared, I'd imagine I'd talk more instead of not talk at all.  All the times people give me that look and distance themselves because of me?  Are you saying it's because I'm nervous?  Yeah, sure.

I've tried to explain it to her.  I've shown her info.  She believes it.  But she just doesn't change.  Join clubs!  I did that.  Talk talk talk.  If only I could.  I try.  She doesn't get that I don't really care what people think, whether or not I'll be embarrassed.

Her idea now is Toastmasters.  She wants to go, and drag me along.  Now, I've looked into it before, but with her… I'm actually less likely to speak to others when she's around.  Pretty much zero chance I'll speak.

And public speaking – I actually have done that more than I've done anything else!  Granted, I'd rather die than do that, but… I've done reports and stuff.  I've even managed to bungle my way through the highly scrutinized speech & impromptu of Acadec.  And that's also with enduring a hell of a lot of practice with people I know, which is even worse.  It's never been a problem because it's been a necessity.  Grades… being afraid of embarrassment back then.  Well, perhaps that's one sign that I don't care anymore.  I didn't do the presentation portion of class this semester.  And I wasn't thinking of what people would think of my grades.

But she doesn't know how deep down the well I am.  She can't even guess behind my facade.  This is where I tell the truth, or most of it.  Even if I'm speaking hopelessly into space… if it could all fade to black now…

Try teaching me the social skills I don't have!

The world is gray.  But does it ever go away?

I don't really have the energy to get up and drag myself to bed.  I just sit here on this chair every day, doing virtually nothing… might as well stay the night.  Everything's gray.  I already know I won't get anything done this summer.  What's the point anyway.  If I was normal I think I'd still feel the same.  This is a permanent dark cloud.  Let me rot here like I have my whole life.   All these people at school die, and you see all the people hurt, all the people who cared about them.  And then there's me.  Why can't it be me?  Waste me, I'm already dead, and spare someone else their pain.  People with futures whose lives are cut short…

Someonehelpmesomeonehearmesomeonesaveme