I wouldn't say that I want to kill myself, but I will say that I have recently hoped to get hit by a truck.

I take it back now, it sounds dreadful on a number of levels, more than just physical. but at the time, I wouldn't have minded one bit.



I feel like most people say that they want to be there for me just because they feel bad. then they realize it's not worth the trouble, and I don't blame them. I can't even help myself. I shouldn't become their burden.

I am drained. and I'm still sad that I'm disappointing people left and right. I think it's driving me deeper into this hole. I just want everyone to be happy. I feel like I shouldn't be until they're happy with me.

I hate this.

life's a funny thing.

Some days I wake up and think it's the most beautiful thing ever permitted to exist.
Other days, I wake up loathing it, wishing I was asked whether I wanted it or not, wondering why I have to go through the motions.

Life is terribly confusing.
I'm learning to take the good with the bad; washing the medicine down with a spoonful of sugar.
It's hard, though, some days.
I have a great life, but I think everyone suffers from their own degree of disappointment and frustration and even depression.
I'm at the bottom of this deep hole right now, and it's been a challenge to climb out of. Each day, though, I think I somehow get a little closer to the light.
Then again, sometimes the hole sinks a little further into the ground, and I cry in distress, staring at the bit of sun still peeking through, desperate to reach it again.


I suppose that it's when I stop looking for the bit of sun that I've got a real problem.