"Nothing fucking matters. There is no point to my life and existence. I can't just sit here worrying if the world's gonna end. If the world ends, so what. Then everything dies and no one will be around to care. But if it doesn't matter if the world ends, it doesn't matter if I end. Or if anyone ends. What's the fucking point? And then if I care if the world ends, I'm always worrying that it might. Is there a fucking middle ground? Why isn't everybody else freaking out? What's the fucking point of it all anyway? It's not like I'm really all that important to anyone. The only things that depend on me for anything, that really require my existance to exist at all are my rat, who fucking hates me, and one of my cats, and my parents are probably going to have him put to sleep anyway. None of my projects are worth anything, and I'll never amount to anything. I'm always worried about something, except when I'm engrossed in something everyone else finds moronic and childish. So why am I so hesitant? Why don't I just do it? Get it the fuck over with and stop worrying and freaking out and getting in everyone's way. Why? What's wrong with me? Why am I feeling this way? Why can't I end this? Why am I still here?"
This is what I was thinking just a few minutes ago. The thoughts have passed, and the feelings are passing, but as I read over this I have on major thought.
What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. Me.
This should be a happy entry. My neice Georgia was just born this afternoon. I held her. She was so cute and innocent. How can I think that it wouldn't matter if she "ended?" What is wrong with me? Why am I having such dark thoughts today? Why am I so anxious? I should be happy for God's sake!
As much as I hate to admit it, and as much as I hate shoving a pill down my throat every morning, I think I need to go back on medication.
fcked up in the head
Music: Disturbed "Inside the Fire" (believe it or not, it makes me feel better)