So I'm still here. Though there are more and more times when I'm thinking I won't be by the next day. The problem is purely me. I am what is wrong with everything. I have no idea how to fix this, fix myself. The longer it goes on the further away I feel from any kind of solution.

So many dreams I had, I still do somewhere deep down inside of me. I pretty much let go of any hope of fulfilling them when I realized my bf was not even remotely interested in anything except his computer games. I have fallen into something I don't know how to get out of anymore. I want to give up, I'm a coward, it's too hard now. Coward that I am though, I still cannot bring myself to finish it. I can't even come up with any good reasons not to anymore yet something keeps me from it. Maybe I am too scared, maybe I am punishing myself by staying alive, maybe I am too apathetic, I just don't even care enough to do it.

The joy of mood swings, depression you don't have the energy to do anything, good or bad although you think of it all the time, but come a mixed episode and all bets are off. All the energy you want, great to begin with but it will turn on you and soon you have all the dark suicidal thoughts and the energy of a boat load of duracell batteries to act on them all.

I wish I was never the one they relied on, the one who's broken emotions mean they can seem calm when everything around them is falling apart. When people die to be the one turned to because you can talk about everything without falling apart yourself and making them feel worse. The one who is destroying their self by keeping it all in because they know no other way of dealing with everything. I am glad in a way that my broken mind can help someone like this but it drives most people away when they think I am just uncaring and empty. This is when I need to do things to feel something, but of course if anyone knew it would just prove their thoughts of me justified.

Even relied on to be the bright one, the success, what a joke. Bullied since even primary school and too much of a mess to fight it even at university. I let them walk over me, plotting my revenge like a fantasy novel that will never see the light of day. The schoolyard massacre was in my mind long before the newsreaders made them famous. Now just the sick one, the one who never comes home. Filled with excuses and fear they will never see. Constantly running away from everything they tried to build me up to be, the disappointed and the disappointing.