Currently, everything is disturbing me. It all is just rubbing me the wrong way. Even the clicking of my laptop’s own keyboard. I keep thinking back to spring break when I felt this gone, and the only one who noticed was Kris. I spoke to two other very good friends on the phone mid-meltdown, and they did not know. He did though. He persisted to get me on the phone somehow. I know he cares. He does show he cares, so I was stupid today to say I feel like I care more sometimes. The boy saved my legs, my body. He calmed me down. He calms me down. I feel so far down the rabbit’s hole. I want to re-read Alice’s Adventure’s In Wonderland to remind myself that it’s okay. It’s a place of learning, and once you’re in it, you can leave. You aren’t stuck there. Also, Lewis Carroll suffered from migraines much like I do, and my neurologist says that’s what inspired him to write about the changes in height from BIG to small. I feel like I’m choking. I was born innocent into a world of corruption and decay. I feel so minimal. And for some strange reason what’s eating at the back of my mind the most is the thought that I can’t trust people… That I tell people things, and they end up telling someone else. No. That’s not how secrets work. I just dislike it so much. I’m so disappointed. Don’t assume that you can just tell someone else my secret because they’re my friend. I tell people my things even when it may not seem like something that should be kept secret to you. I’m also disappointed in myself as a human being. I’ve always hated me. Maybe it’s getting progressively worse. The last thing I want to hear is someone blame the medications for what I feel because you’re all just so quick to assume it’s the medicine because it’s new and yeah it’s hard on my body. But guess what, I’ve always been this bad. I’m just able to share it more now because I’m not as anxious or scared around you thanks to the medication and therapy. I don’t want to go home, but that’s the only place I can go. The thought of my mom picking me up is making me cry. She’s going to want to talk to me in the car. I don’t want to talk. I want scratch my skin up. I just feel my throat closing, and I want to finish the job because I am in agony. It’s just so painful to feel my skin the way it feels. I feel the pores open so unpleasantly… I want to get rid of it quickly and the scratching gets it away. It diminishes it. I just want to get rid of me too. I don’t even care if I have marks. I don’t care. I don’t care. I DO NOT CARE. At least, in the moment I don’t care about the scars or bruises because it’s what needs to be done to rid myself of the asphyxiating pain I feel. I feel so bad right now. My headphones are around my neck, and I feel like they want to choke me. I’m leaving them there though. I’m forcing myself to deal with it. I force myself to deal with the fact that these are all irrational ideas in my head. I have so much in me. I don’t know what the emotions are. Are these emotions? I’m all over the place. I want to drown in a bucket or bang my head against the tiles in the shower. This is so unbearable. I’m happy I was in the hospital Monday morning. It was such a break. Now I just need to finish school. I just… It feels like. Everything is out to get me, but in reality, I’m out to get myself. It’s so unbearable though, and I see how annoying I am to everyone else. Even now I’m at my best friend’s house, and I can’t do this study guide. It’s not because of the medications. It’s because my mind is just sharpening a knife to hurt me with. She won’t say it, but I can feel the energy from her and it’s not good… I just. I don’t know anymore. Not that I ever knew. But there was always positive hope. I don’t have much positive hope. I’m like a dying fairy. My light is giving out.