two pills just weren't enough
2003-03-25 || 6:50 a.m.

I've been sort of dreaming and sort of fantasising all night about killing myself. I feel sick that the world has to put up with me in it.

I thought I was walking up hallford way. I thought I laid down in the middle of the road and I thought how appropriate it would be because I started off in that end of Dartford and I could end there. Whenever I walk there I get these nostalgic flashbacks, like multi-sensory. I can smell and feel how it felt to be really small again. I hate that. I truly hate it. I wonder what it was ever like to look in the mirror and not hate myself. There must have been a time.

When I was in hospital a few years back they tried to get me to have counselling for this. They said there was no reason for the way I feel. That just proves my exterior works really fucking well.

Today I am being observed in numeracy, mainly, I think, because I'm so crap. Fucking well-meaning do-gooders tell me stuff like 'oh well, if you think like that, you will be crap'. Yeah, right. I think like that because I am crap. I don't create the crapness the crapness creates me.

They just don't get it.

The oddest thing is, if I had any sense that I mattered in anyway at all I would grab a razor and slash my wrists open in front of people and say 'look, that's how much I fucking hurt, that's what I feel like inside every single fucking waking day, every minute of the night, every moment of my existence, please stop me feeling like this.'

But I am so worthless that I deserve this pain and I deserve for no-one to ever guess.

And I'm tired of no-one knowing me. But I know what I should do and then Rebecca would be able to truly mourn me and then move on, instead of being stuck here with me in this spiral of nastiness.

Shit, shit, shit. The same thing is happening as happened the other tuesday but I haven't even left the house yet. I don't think I can go in my classroom. I can't stop crying. I am fucking useless. I really cannot cope anymore. I wish I had someone to talk to, who would always be there. I can't bear this anymore. There's no light at the end of the tunnel. Jesus, I'm not even in a fucking tunnel, I don't know where I am. I have to go.