It's not natural, normal or kind
2002-10-10 || 9:09 p.m.

You know, I can't really think why or how I wrote that last entry. It sort of seems a bit normal, happy even. I'm certainly neither of those things.

What I actually am at the moment is scared, and I have good reason to be. There's no point in going into any more detail than that, no point at all.

I feel very mixed up and yet its all just a game, a fantasy, a charade because I have no life to be mixed up.

Everytime I think about the people at work I want to cry. Just seeing Maria walking down the corridors makes me want to vomit. How pathetic is that. Kylie asked me what was wrong today so I started blathering on about the letter I have to send to Alain and how he will go ape and how I am worried, seriously worried, for my safety and blah, blah, blah. Then she said was there anything else. So I told her how I cannot cope. With anything. At all. I put on this front most especially at work but everywhere really. This diary too. None of its real. I don't know. All that stuff in the last entry. Yes, I did buy black boxers, yes I do think they are sexy but the thought of anyone thinking I am sexy. How fucking hilarious. How totally and utterly pointless all these ramblings are.

I don't know that I've ever felt this depressed, ever.

Someone has said to me that they think I have manic depression. They may well be right but I don't want treatment. I don't want help.

What do I want then?

I want to die. I want to be born again (haha, not in the christian sense!), I want to be held, I want to be warm, I want to be someone else, I want to not be a vacuum. I really want to be able to read.

What do I like about me?

I like being a vegetarian. I think that's a good thing. Nothing else. Just that.