I'm still nothing.

Fucking hell mates.

I slept two hours in the past three days. 

My sleeping time in comparison to my waking time is 1:36. 

And counting obviously. 

I'm tired of breathing. 

I didn't even want to go to ram today. 

I hate myself and I want will die. 

I went for ram, stayed for two and a half periods. 

I'm as suicidal as ever. 

It was so silly of me to relapse. 

I could've pretend I'm fine and be out of supervision in no time and I'd fucking kill myself. 

You know what's funny?

My parents read my text messages quite often, but my blog? Not even once. 

Or at least that's what I hope. 

I mean, I can never know, can I?

Damn it. 

I wish I could simply go to the nonprescription drugs in the local drugstore and fucking take as many as possible, puncture my lungs [breathing's for weaklings!] and end it. 

It's about time, I'm late for the final station, it is so close to me, but there are so many problems that I just don't seem to get there anytime soon, the train can't get through it. 

It's windy outside. 

I feel like air, having to make room for other air, air that is by all means, supposed to be where I am laying now. 

I wish I was some first prince of some royal family and I'd have many hateful and desperate siblings. 

They'd kill me and each other, only in order to get to the throne. 

I remember two years ago, my source of power was to help you not do it [even though that I believe I'm a great thesis subject!] or support you in some odd way, and of course, to not be a part of te "statistics". I don't have control over it, I never had, and I'll never will have. 

Last year it was about not joining it, being too fat, and curiosity, basically body hatred.
A few months ago it was for not disappointing Anna [from Hungary].
Now?
Now it's my awful selfishness.

I'm tired and my head is aching, even though that I managed to nap a wee-bit.
I'm probably going to rest.

Good night.