06.06.06

1:58 a.m.

incoherent rambling

I havenít felt thisÖsad/worthless/depressed/uncomfortableÖ ever.

So much so that I canít even describe it accurately.

I donít know whatís wrong with me. I sleep all day, and even when I get up after 13 or more hours of sleep, Iím still tired to my bones. I donít want to get out of bed, because frankly, my dreams are better than my life. Even my nightmares are an improvement on my everyday existence.

There have been times when Iíve been depressed, but itís never been quite like this. Iím dreading classes with every fiber of my being this summer. I feel like my life is slipping away so quickly.

And, it is. Iíve lost complete control.

Iíve become a lazy bulimic. As in Iím too lazy to bother purging anymore. In an attempt to be healthier, I try not to purge. But, I still binge. Iíll binge and binge and binge and binge, then tell myself I canít purge. Hours later with a bloated and burning stomach Iíll give in and purge.

But really, what good is that?

I suppose in all reality Iíve switched from being bulimic to being a binge eater. Iíve gained so much weight it makes me sick thinking about it. Iím too embarrassed to go to the gym. Even my Ďfat clothesí donít fit anymore.

And really, thereís nothing worse than a fat girl in clothes that are too tight. I know, Iíve seen myself in the mirror. But I canít buy anything bigger if I canít even bring myself to go to the store, let alone try things on.

I donít bother wearing makeup anymore. I donít even want to look in the mirror for a second longer than I have to. My hair hasnít seen a style in forever; unless a ponytail is a style. Showers seem redundant, though I havenít stopped bathing just yet.

Iím a vile person. I guess my outsides are finally starting to match my inside.

I criticize everyone I see. I hate myself so much, and it kills me that others donít hate themselves, too. Iím so mad that there are people who are fatter, uglier, or less intelligent than me and theyíre perfectly content with their lives. I hate that I feel this way. I hate that the first thing that pops into my mind when I see anyone is the most negative thing I can think of. I have to find something, about everyone, that I hate.

Iím so fucking jealous that they donít constantly berate themselves, that they have the fucking nerve to be happy in their miserable existence, when I canít even muster up one good attribute about myself and honestly believe it.

For the first time, I finally realize how pessimistic I am. How much disdain and absolute contempt I have for every single person. I hate them, because I hate me.
I feel like running away; somewhere far away and telling no one. I just want to disappear.

I took a ride in the mountains tonight because I just wanted to be alone. My mind wandered to the fact that itís 06/06/06, how everyone is making into more than it is, and how it would be an interesting day to die. That I could just pull the wheel to the right and fly off the mountain cliff.

But, I donít want to die. Mainly because I donít believe in an afterlife, or that some beautiful place is waiting for me. I think when you die, youíre dead, and thatís pretty much it. I donít want to die, so please donít mistake this as some sort of suicidal call for help.

I just want to be happy.

And, Iím just so sad.

Worse than I've ever been before.

I just want to be happy.


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