Supposedly this is the 200th chapter of this book, but I think I have three drafts that I might go back and delete, so this would only be the 197th. If this is the last one, I guess I'll make a new book to keep putting my dumb ass shit in.
I'm in a mood tonight. I guess I've been in a mood for a couple of days. I also feel lightheaded and nauseous, so don't expect any beautiful writing whoever the fuck you are that is reading this. God knows none of my friends do anymore. Ryland unfollowed me, piece of shit, shocker. Mallory doesn't check this except for every couple of months so she can feel good about whatever, whatever, I don't have any biting remark right now. And etc etc.
I want to be a power couple with myself. I want to feel so good and confident that all I need is myself and I'm really happy with that. But I've realized over the past few days that I'm a lot more toxic than I previously thought because I'm a very dependent person. I don't know if I'm necessarily toxic to other people, but I definitely have some traits right now that are not good for me. For starters, the fact that my mood is so strongly dependent on my place in my friends' lives, that place of which I feel is constantly in limbo.
tw depression and suicide
Maybe I'm just in a depressive episode right now, and that's why I feel like this and am so down on myself. I mean, I'm definitely in a depressive episode right now, I just don't know if that's why I'm so down on myself. Probably. Yeah, probably. I also really hate my body. My dysphoria just keeps getting worse and worse and I want to reach out to friends but I feel like I'm constantly putting my shit on them and they're the only ones left so if I push them too hard they will leave and I will have nobody again.
"College is a formative time of your life." Is it supposed to be forming me into someone suicidal? I was thinking about Camus last night, and I might (and probably am) misremembering The Myth of Sisyphus but I think he said that suicide is the solution to the absurd and a bad one at that partially because it falls into the reasoning that nothing will get better. I just feel like I don't think that's the reason everybody commits suicide. Last night I just didn't care. I didn't care if things got better or not, the pain was just so bad that I couldn't bear to live in it. Clearly, I did. Clearly, I'm here. But in that moment I just understood more than usual why people do it.
I'm getting really fucking sick of putting my effort into people who do little to reciprocate my affection. Why do I always pick people who don't give me anything back?
I just don't see what the point is.
I wake up in the morning and the light is just another reminder I am not what I should be. Yeah yeah yeah my therapists have said "should's are evil" and yet, they fucking ghosted me too so who really gives a fuck?
Maybe part of it is that my conception of love is wrapped up so tightly in someone who I know so well that I can think how they do, and their voice is constantly in my head telling me all the terrible things I am and am doing. And by constantly I mean constantly; everything I do is ridiculed by their voice in my head. It feels really fucked up that it's specifically their voice too, telling me all the bad things. Like if she doesn't love me, then who does? But it's not like she really loves me anymore anyways. There's been an intrusive thought on my mind for a while now because I've been unable to do anything artistic to get my pain out, that maybe if I wrote like Pete Wentz her brain would come back to me. It was more poetic in my head, I guess.
I'm tired now. Tired. Tired.
Goodnight.
