unwell

At the risk of sounding like a melodramatic teenybopper, I am having a string of seriously fucked-in-the-head days. Saying "I wish I was dead" sounds so stupid. It sounds like the heroine on Lifetime's Movie of the Week. It's something that fifteen year olds scream at their mothers when they aren't allowed to stay out past curfew. It means nothing anymore.

And yet I do. Wish I was dead. I'm not suicidal, I'm not a danger to myself; I just want to go to sleep and never, ever wake up. Here or in whatever afterlife there may happen to be.

I think I'm sad. I don't know, but my eyes keep watering all funny, so I suppose it means I'm sad. I cried on New Years Eve because I missed my mom. I'm so fucking pathetic.

This is ridiculous. I have everything I could possibly want in the world. I'm happy on the surface - I look at my life and I can see how lucky I am and appreciate it. Dig much deeper, though, and it's nothing but a pool of muck.

I would give blood in exchange for large amounts of Xanax. Z has a cold, which always freaks me out. I am tempted to go hide in the closet, behind the clothes, but then I'd have to explain myself, and wouldn't THAT be fun? I want a shitload of Xanax, a bottle of vodka, and a bunch of razor blades.

I want to die. I want to die, and I don't give a fuck how juvenile it sounds. I want to die. I am so numb anyway that all it would do is take me a little further.

Fuck it.

~Emma

"There's an awful lot of breathing room, but I can hardly move..."

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earlier later

break this - Tuesday, Mar. 01, 2005

long time no post - Monday, Feb. 28, 2005

give me a little credit - Thursday, Nov. 18, 2004

blink-free - Thursday, Oct. 28, 2004

end of days - Thursday, Oct. 14, 2004

Clix me! (Pretty please?)