.

The only way for me to go on is to believe that I'm alright. I'm fine and everything is perfect. I'll live for others. I'll call my friends to see if they're okay. I'll text them to see if they're alright. I'll reach out to them, the way nobody did for me.

I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't continue living like this. I'm losing my mind.

How many mental breakdowns did you have today?
          
          
          
          Too many to count.

My palms are sweaty. I was in the bathroom a few minutes ago. I held a knife and stared at the mirror. It's starting up. I'm not beautiful enough. I'm too fat. I'm worthless. Then, I let it go. I placed the knife back to where it came from.

They took my notebook. By 'they', it's probably my grandmother. I'm scared because I wrote a lot of depressed shit on there. Now, I have no place to write how I feel. I have no place to go.

I'm going insane.

I can't sleep. My insomnia's starting up again. I hate this.