I’ve been more productive and going out more. I thought it would help but it just makes me feel worse.

I’m really tired and I honestly don’t know why I’m still alive. I have nothing heartbreaking or pretty to even say. It doesn’t matter.

I just want to hide in my apartment and never be seen again until I finally give up.

I promised that I would volunteer for election and I have and will try to even though I really just want to spend the day crying in bed. I’m so exhausted.

The new meds suck and I still can’t get a full night’s sleep. I may go see doctor again next week if I can get an appointment. I’m so tired and constantly embarrassed and afraid.

This is not a life. I don’t know what life is. I don’t want to be “them” either, I don’t want to be anyone.

I may not write much anymore. There’s no one to actually communicate with, it seems. If I don’t write, it doesn’t mean I’m dead… though we can all hope.

Prison really screwed me up. It’s so weird, because while I attempted suicide on September 10th (and actually lost conciousness) after that prison became sort of comforting. That’s fucked up. I should have hated every moment of it, but I didn’t. I think the thing that hurt most was just feeling like I was being told I was bad.

I’m so insecure and self aware that if ANYONE told me I was bad, I would doubt myself, even if rationally I know I’m not. I’d rather be stupid and ugly and everything else than be bad. But people don’t treat themselves the way I do, its not even a question for them. I hate that and envy that all at once.

I deleted all the small “thoughts” cause I just don’t see the point anymore. I may even just shut down the blog. I have nothing I want to share.

I hope I get hit by a bus! why can’t I have an aneurism? People die all the time, just let it be me. I don’t belong here, I just don’t