My Diary Entries

2

I'm depressed, I know that I am. I think about death a lot, in more a philosophical way than anything else, but occasionally my mind wanders. Would I be better off dead? It would certainly be easier, at least on my part. It's an irrational thought, I realize this, but my mind still doesn't shun it when it saunters in.

When I do snap out of it, I realize how selfish thoughts like those are. I can't help thinking them, it's just something my brain does when I'm under stress. Once it realizes something as a possibility, it will not stop theorizing and wondering and yearning. It becomes an all-consuming thought, one that is impossible to control. I want it to stop, sure, but it doesn't matter what tactic I use, or to what degree, the thought will still find a way in.

It is exactly like when someone tells you not to think about something, but you find that your mind goes straight to it. Arrows and flashing lights dash across your vision, pointing directly at the very thing you are meant to ignore.

I hate when people give advice when they simply do not understand. You cannot tell someone who is homeless to just, "Get a job." It's harder than that. In the same respect, you cannot tell someone with chronic depression to just, "Get over it." Life isn't that easy.

Yes, I am young and I am aware that my life isn't all that difficult. If I could control these thoughts, don't you think I would? I am not doing this for attention and I am not doing it because I was mistreated as a child. I wish I had a justifiable reason, but I don't. This is just how I am.

I wish more people could understand that.

*

I was doubtful in the beginning, and the truth is, I still am. Teenage relationships are a whirlwind of tumbling emotions and raging hormones. Less than one percent of teen relationships last. This is not an actual statistic, I just made it up. I'm sure I'm not far off, though. I know it's not healthy to go into a relationship expecting the worst, but I'm not about to get my hopes up again.

The pain of disappointment, to me, is worst than losing the actual person. At least when it is infatuation. I've never been in love, so I have yet to experience heartbreak. Just disappointment, which I've felt on a number of occasions. Nothing special.

I can already feel problems arising. Like the familiar inch of a bug bite, it gnaws at you until you can't help but to scratch. I didn't want to think about it because I only wanted to focus on the positive. It's nothing that he has specifically done, it's more in the way of situation. It might solve itself, or it could become lethal. I know I should just let things happen naturally, but that's just not in my nature. My curiosity manifests to where I can't do anything but obsess and worry and bend my mind in ways I still do not understand. I can't expect anyone to stick around when I have so little control over myself.

You can't expect someone to love you when you don't even love yourself.

**

I can feel his eyes on me. I tune in and out to his mannerisms. The pat pat pat of his shoes and I know he is headed my way. I can see the faint red of his shirt trailing the outermost of my vision. I shouldn't be scared, he hasn't caught me of anything. Yet, somehow, I feel he knows. Maybe I'm not quite as stealthy as I imagined myself to be.

Guilt can make a person more attuned to the people around them and it can cause a false sense of reality. A look held for too long, a twitch or the scuffle of feet moving too slowly. It doesn't matter what it is, in the mind of the guilty, it represents one thing: awareness. They know, and if they know, what might they do? It's this paranoia that leads to the demise of many cold-blooded killers. Guilt weakens them, causing their once brilliant plan to diminish into mere dust.