Hurt.

Unbelievable.

I woke up at two fifty four. 

I took a sleeping pill and once again, four and a half hours of sleep. 

That's it. 

I'm now getting to that final stage, my body is giving up, urging me to go with it and leave. 

Oh, I wish I could end this life. 

My head is throbbing and aching, and I'm bored. 

I guess I'll watch something on my television, because fuck sleeping, right?

Next week I got another meeting with the psychiatrist. 

I was supposed to see her only in January, but as you can see, nobody can tell if I be able to make it by then. 

I really hope that she'll put me off fluoxetine instead of upping the dosage. 

It's six am, I'm on my laptop.

I wish I was dead.
I wish that I won't exist.
But the idea terrifies me.
I'd bring unnecessary pain and confusion to my surroundings, and they certainly don't deserve it.

I guess I'm going to go to school today, I can't sleep for more than four and a half hours anyway, so why won't I just say "fuck it" and go there.
I mean, sure, suicidal thoughts, plans, and numbness, without the possibility to even draw in order to distract myself, because I'd just won't be able to think at all, and when I will think, I may start crying in class.
And I really don't need this bullshit again.

I should probably try to find a good way to pass time, because the only thing more exhausting than functioning, is not functioning and just sink into numbness with sometimes hopes for some feeling, even if it's a negative one, it is something.

But no, this day is going to be shitty.
I got science, which is alright, I don't know where I'd sit.
Alone and in privacy at the back of the class? Or with my buddies, one desk forward?
And then I got that shitty lesson that's pretty much all about nature and loving it.
I hate nature, and nature hates me too, so I'm quite okay with staying away from it, so I just need to waste fifty minutes without being too anxious and hope that Yael won't do regrettable things.

And Arabic, I fucking such at Arabic, okay?! I will never be able to speak normally and to be honest, I think I just won't continue with Arabic at highschool, I can't manage Arabic, hell, we study it as it was Hebrew. And Hebrew is a fucking bitch to learn, because of pronunciation, letters, and I'm just unable to figure it. I can hardly read things there, and it takes me about whole two minutes in order to finish a rather long or slightly familiar word.

Then I got education, which as always, anxiety and because of my fucked up brain and focus, I'm going to suffer through with really hating myself but in the same time, feeling absolutely nothing.
Then English, I'd excel through easily, which will keep me bored, because it's not challenging.
Science once again, and geography, I wonder if Ariel would let us go home or that we'd study, which if we will, then... I'm probably going to read through the book and try to entertain myself.


I'm frustrated.
I just want to stop myself from being.
I don't care if this shell I call a body carries on or not, but my very self, the one that makes me do these things that I hate, and makes me not feel, because it clashes with the loathing of mine against it.
Against myself.


Oh, I'm back from school, at the last period I was pretty much coming down from my adrenaline rush, caused by anxiety and my body's desperate attempt to stay awake and somewhat focused.
I suffered from being unfocused and pretty much unconnected.

I managed to go through it, so it's a something.



Okay, I had an eye check.
My eyes are fine, I think that my right eye is getting slightly weaker, or that my left one just overpowers it.

My fucking cocktail is driving me nuts.
I get hyper and tactless moments, where I'm not even at control, it's not even me that's doing that.
Most of the day I'm numb.
And then I got those crappy suicidal/ you don't deserve to live/ go kill yourself already and ease the burden that is you from your friends/ other lovely shit lapses.


Let's change the subject because it can only get worse if I'd continue with the previous topic.
From some reason, Dabush thought that it was a funny idea to make others think that he's my boyfriend.
I was quite pissed at him for doing so.
But I still allow him to hug me and spread his lovely warmth and affection, he really is very catlike.
Why? Because I feel safe, cared, held, loved.
He says that he loves me, and I feel whole.
It's so fucking beautiful that I seriously might start to fucking cry.
I tell him I love him too, why won't I? He doesn't have the stupid ego of not letting others know his feelings and I feel quite open with him [I told him that I was in Shalvata, and dude, that's crazy] and he makes me feel good.
If that's not love, and love is better than this, then I'd die from the euphoric state I'd be in.
So, he's a pleasant person to be around.
He hugs me a lot, which isn't even irritating, it just feels right.
I guess I'm going to fuck things up again and before  I notice, there I am, contemplating suicide and self harm once again.

I just wish I didn't have to such a shitty person.

Okay, Placebo is such a great band.
Seriously.


Just before dinner I had a lapse.

Dinner was at seven thirty. 

It's nine thirty and I feel like there is absoultely no hope left. 

I see my body, and I just wish I'd carve away my hatred. 

I'm getting worse. 

My spirit is in an advanced stage of decay. 

And I just don't want to let them down. 

I can't even fathom what effects are going to be. 

I don't want to hurt them, but I will. 

I have to. 

I can't keep my mind off "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails, I love how broken it sounds, how deep it is, and sadly, how familiar it sounds. 

I'm probably going to listen to it and cry, because I'm such a magnificent hormonal and chemical wreck.