Four fifty.

I woke up today at four fifty am.
What the fuck?
I got over three hours until school stats, so I got around two hours and twenty minutes for staying here.

I feel anxious.
My fingers now freezing in this room.
I wish I could know what's going on now in Omri's life...
I really hope that he'd get better.
I wish that everyone, who can't see how wacky the whole thing is, would wake up.
First of all, that's illegal to allow him to do so, and too many know it.
It's not helping either that each times that he's rushed for the emergency rooms, the doctors and nurses just send him home.
And, he's refusing to go to therapy.
Who the fuck does he think he is?
If you refuse, you're forced, it's that simple dear.

I fucking hate myself now.
I feel like about every tiny thing I do, my parents think it's the most extreme and crazy things.
But it's fucking awful, I'm not doing anything, they sent me into this therapy because of what? A couple of tiny non harmful scratches?!
Oh please!
I am not depressed.
At most, I have a bit of hypochondriac behaviour, and more of emotional eating and binges.
But "sadly", she specialises  in youth, and in the more common eating disorders, Bulimia Nervosa and Anorexia Nervosa.
I'm just there, being a lump of fat that's tired of the lies they feed me.
I am so tired...
So tired.

I want to fucking leave this hell.
I need to go and get the new razors, or maybe ditch to the cabaria for doing so.
I mean, it won't be really bad, because I might quit.
I just feel anxious there anyway.
And I know that this is exactly how my friendships vanish.
Each time that I didn't come to something, even one day a week, my friendships fade, get corrupted, and it's never good.
It happened to me with Gal.
She said she missed me on the days I didn't come.
And Yael tells me it today.
I feel like I'm just destroying her now.
I should fucking stop it.
But I can't.. I'm too weak to leave her.

I guess I'd wait until it'd happen.
I just want to rest.
I'm fucking things enough with resting anyway, so it doesn't really matter.
I guess I need some time to rest.
I want new razors.
I couldn't cut as deep and it drove me crazy.
It still drives me crazy, great... Now I fail at that too?

Oh, fun fact, did you know that until '66 a suicide attempt was illegal in Israel? The punishment was up to three years in prison or a fine.
I just fucking love it, who suggested it? And who agreed to it? I mean "Well murder's illegal, so murdering yourself should be illegal, who's with me?"

I got another hour until seven.
I want to cut.
But I shouldn't.
This cut from last night was weird, I just couldn't cut through, and it took me around twenty minutes, and my mom commented on the time it took me to finish, so I was tight on time.

I feel like I need it.
I don't even care.

I deserve it.
This pain.


I want to sleep.
No, I don't want to sleep. If I'd sleep, it means that I'd just waste precious "sane-time".
I can't afford to lose it.
Maybe I'd eat a breakfast, if anything would seem appealing.
Maybe I'd cut.
I really have no power to even decide.

At least school's over at Tuesday, and then there's Sukkot.
Well... Kind of it.
I got the pre-renovation event on Wednesday, and a practise on Thursday, on Friday I got the renovation, Saturday is free for me, but the stores are closed, on Sunday I got a practise, Monday is probably the day for Tel Aviv, Tuesday is free, so is Wednesday, Thursday's a practice, Friday's free, Saturday's free as well.
I really hate sometimes to be in this sports class, it wastes a great amount of my time.


I want to cut again.
But it doesn't help that I want to, I need to be able to do so!
I'm too weak and pathetic, last night even though that I've cut over it, it wouldn't cut!

I feel like I'm lost again.... Lost and suffocated.
I hate this form of suffering.

I have a feeling that my relapse was caused by the hormone medication, and that's unfair.
I feel even more fake and like a poseur, like nothing about me is actually me.
And why would I feel this way, as it's true? It's not me, it's the hormones, it's nothing that I do, it's some weird chemical combination they've developed that seems to work.
I hate it.
But it's my fault that I take it, because I wouldn't have to take it if I never corrupted my eating behaviour.

My toes are cold.

I was thinking about piercings, and I thought about lobes, I find them pretty at some people, but take notice of the "some people".
I won't do them, I think my ears aren't okay.
They are small-ish, and they are weird.
I don't like them.


You know, Kippur is a day dedicated for torturing yourself.
And it's unfair, because it goes on... And on... And on.

It's almost seven.
I don't know if I should cut or shouldn't.
From one side, why not? I don't have sports today, but from the other side, I got school and I'm probably wearing leggings.
I want and can, but maybe it's unsafe to cut before cyclin....
Hell, cutting's not safe!
My logic in here is flawed, I'm asking if it's safe to cut before exercise, even though that I'd probably do it any-fucking-way.
I want to stop being me.

It's funny to think that any type of treatment would help...
It's not a mental illness, or something you can cure with a prescription, talking about it won't help either, and even ceremonies of every culture or religion won't help.
You better just scream at me "Dybbuk" and throw crucifix at me, I don't know what Muslims' do, praying for allah for mercy?
I don't know.... Sacrifice!
Oh, it's perfect timing!
Oh, and instead of "Dybbuk" they can swing a chicken over my head and then kill it!


Okay I'm back from school, this day was quite awful, I was worried a lot, I'm afraid that he actually succeeded.
I still hope that he was rushed to the emergency room, saved, and now sent to the psychiatric ward, long term one.
Yes, he's there. He has to be there.

He won't be anywhere e...
Oh, what if he didn't take his medication and cut? What if he overdosed with them?!
No, I shouldn't think about it, he's safe now, he's just forced in there.

I just don't want a world without this guy, he was fucking great, he could have made a great... He is fucking great, he can make a great future.



I'm afraid that I'm just lying to myself.
And I hope it's not wishful thinking alone.



I feel like I'm fake, that I never count.
I mean, look at me.
Developing that eating disorder that nobody counts as one, called as Emotional Eating.
And learning about cutting as a form of self harm.
Sometimes I don't know how much of a fake poseur I truly am.
I know that when I was playing football and I disappointed the team or screwed up, I dug my nails into the palm, or pinched, or bit my lip, but I just don't really count it from some reason.
I also tend to forget about it, probably considering it to be unimportant and normal.
I'm just not real.
That's all.
Nothing's wrong with me.

I don't know if I should or shouldn't cut soon, from one side, I really feel like it'd help, from the other, the depth I reach is so pathetic that I'm surprised that I even bothered.
I just don't know what to do.
It's hard to cut anyway because each time that I put my hand to stretch the skin [I'm fat guys, what did you expect?] I accidently put it on another cut, straight after I cleaned it, and I don't want to bandage them oddly or recleanse with alcohol.


Fuck, I had a feeling like I said too much, I've been asked by my atheist friend titled "I'm God" if I hurt myself.
I said no, it'll just end up bad and I'd end up with people pitying me.
God believed me, so I'm safe.