Can you still call it tea if you don’t involve any sort of leaf? Milk, hot water, sugar… what is that? What is it that truly makes a certain thing that thing and not something else? It’s a question I ask a lot about myself. “If my emotions aren’t right, am I still human?” “Can I be human without a heart?” “What am I, if not crazy?” “Will there still be a nutmeg if you medicate the disease out of her?” “How much of me is me and how much is disease?”

A thousand thoughts a minute and not one of them good.

I am unhappy. I am angry. I hate my life and the direction it is taking. No matter how many times I try to make things better, it just doesn’t work. I am a failure. Any “good” thing in my life turns to shit as soon as I get my hands on it. I am cursed. Or I am a curse. They are the same.

I currently don’t even have enough money in my bank account to buy gas to drive to fucking Toronto, much less the rent which I have to pay in 3 weeks and my car loan. I royally fucked up my midterm and my last theory test, so am going to have to work my ass off if I want to get any sort of mark worth mentioning at the end of the year, and even then there’s no guarantee of me getting any sort of job. Nothing ever has. It’s all about who you know in this world and I don’t know anyone. Nor do I really want to.

Running away to become a monk sounds better and better all the time.

I wonder if I mixed all the advil I have on hand with all the lithium I have on hand if it would be enough to kill me or only make me very sick? Have I ever mentioned the reason I can’t take Tylenol at all anymore is because I once took enough to make me very very sick? I spent the day in bed, called it a flu, and no one ever said much about it. I was 16. A wristcutter just learning all the best ways to destroy herself. How did the adults in my life manage to so completely miss all the signs? Why did it come as a surprise when I finally found the strength to ask for help? Not that I really got help; I got a doctor who kept trying to put me on antidepressants instead of listening to anything I said, I got parents who told me I didn’t really need meds because there was nothing wrong with me, I got friends who criticized me and told me I was fake.

Not that things have improved terribly much now.

Taking a “sick” day today because I just can’t deal with people. Seriously. I’ve slept all day. The only reason I’m not still in bed and sleeping off today until tomorrow is because I’m forcing myself to get up and do some of my homework. …which has turned to games, but still. I’ve a desperate need to do laundry and I’m just fluffing it off until whenever because I don’t want to deal with anyone today. It’s amazing how quickly I’ve sunk upon neglecting my proper meds. Which, in itself, probably at least partly started due to allowing myself to be lower than I should and not being at the proper medication level.

I don’t know. I’m just confused right now. I don’t think I’m who I’m supposed to be, but I don’t think there’s any “who” for me to be anymore. Not that it fucking matters. I’ve neither the energy nor the will to be some imagined concept. I’ve enough trouble just being without have to be something in particular. Seriously? Fuck it.