1/23/20

guess who decided to snitch on me to the dean today? annabelle. basically what happened was that we had a lockdown drill and i made a joke to someone that "you can't get killed by the school shooter if you are the school shooter." annabelle overheard, and said to me, not acting uncomfortable or anything, "i hope you won't kill me first." i said, not seriously, "nah, i would kill jackson." she went and told jackson as well as the dean. she's going to tell my parents. and jackson is inevitably going to tell everyone about this. now i'm in deep shit.

i don't know why i do these things and i hate myself for it. but deep down i know that if it was somebody else, annabelle wouldn't be concerned. but i'm the weird kid, so she is.

they're decreasing the dosage of cymbalta, weaning me off, because it hasn't been working. they're gonna switch back to prozac. i don't really remember what the prozac was like, how it affected.

anyways, i broke down crying in the counselor's office yesterday, when she started talking about her son that killed himself. started thinking about my own suicidality. how i know i'm always gonna be suicidal, but i'll never be able to do it because i would feel guilty about doing that to my parents. funny thing is, i haven't had serious suicidal thoughts for around a week now. i've just felt kind of...numb.

12/18/19

everyone seems to be getting christmas presents from their friends. except for me. they...they forgot me.

"it's okay. i wouldn't remember me either." i know it's stupid and petty. but it's the little things that get to you. i didn't forget them. i made annecy a watercolor painting, and i was gonna get another person a present too.

sometimes i wonder if i'm already dead, and i'm a ghost. attached to this place, unable to let go and ascend because so much pain was inflicted here. people sure treat me like i am one.

12/16/19

guess who gave me a christmas present today, of all people? jackson. some candy and headphones, in a stocking. i appreciate the effort, but i don't really know how to feel.

besides that, i had a shitty day. annecy told me that i wasn't funny, that i had no sense of humor. the thing is, i wasn't always like this. i used to be someone. i was so joyful. i had so much potential. look at me now. what a waste. at this point i'm really only staying alive for my parents. i'm writing this in the middle of class. if i went to the school bathroom right now and blew my brains out, no one would care. if i disappeared, no one would notice at all. poof. gone. just like that. it's unbearable. sometimes i wish that my parents didn't care, so that i could die without guilt.

12/16/19

the school dean made me and jackson apologize to each other, except that he didn't exactly apologize. he just made up excuses for how he treated me. he also took the opportunity to talk about how everyone here hates me and thinks i'm "super mean." i already know this of course, but having my worst fears and insecurities confirmed like this feels like a punch in the gut. apparently paarth is the one who told him my deadname. needless to say, me and paarth are going to have a little talk. i hate almost everyone at this school and want to blow their brains out. everyone is such an idiot.

on the bright side, i managed to get my hands on a new pencil sharpener. i swear to god. my parents think cutting is bad for me but it's not. it's good for me. it helps me let out my emotions the only way i know how. self-destruction. i don't even have the capacity of feeling the true, deep, misery i used to feel. but i know that i want to slash my wrists up into ribbons.

11/19/19

i got in-school suspension for fighting jackson yesterday. he told everyone at his table my deadname. i'm basically in solitary confinement for the rest of the day. a bunch of thots are outside the room i'm currently sitting in. one of them was throwing full milk cartons at the door. now they're getting salad all over the floor. i hate being stuck in this school with a bunch of blathering idiots. where are eric harris and dylan klebold when you need em, amiright? i swear to fucking god. my depression has turned into apathy. i'm in some sort of limbo. i'm not dead but i don't feel alive. this isn't living. i don't want to live, but i don't want to die. what is this endless hellscape?

11/4/19

i don't know why i'm so torn up about amy. guess it's because i just need someone. literally anyone. i just want someone to hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay. i have sex sometimes with my friend, and it feels good, but it isn't satisfying in the long run. he doesn't "do relationships." i am terrified that no one will ever truly love me. they say that there is someone out there for everyone, but that isn't true. i don't really want to die. i just want to feel alive. but i'm not sure how long i can do this for. i'm starting to scare myself again. i'm under so much stress from so many things.

11/19/19

today the teacher let us pick seats. david immediately left and joined a new table (it's okay, i wouldn't want to sit with me either). anup stayed where he was. i went to over to avery's table (all the other ones were occupied) and asked if i could sit with her. she sighed really loudly, stretched, and didn't respond to my question. i took that as a no and went back to my original table. overheard kai (not the blonde guy, the other one) saying "why would you be so rude to him" to her.

later i looked up and saw avery at our table....crying? mind you, this is a girl that never cries or gets emotional. everyone knows she's a cutter and probably an anorexic but no one asks her about it or talks about it, because apparently it's rude to ask the popular girl, but not when you ask the "emo kid." our society, folks. anyways, apparently marcel was talking about something personal about avery in class. anup wouldn't tell me what it was, but i can guess. asked isamu and aabha if i should confront marcel about it. they said yes, so i will.

later, in art class again, jackson walks up to us and starts talking to kaitlin because kaitlin asked him if a guy likes her. he started jabbering about how no one loves him. i said "join the club, no one loves me either." trying to be sympathetic, albeit in a darkly comedic way. jackson's response? "shut the fuck up, no one fucking asked you." cue laughter.

today a girl from kevin's friend group, let's call her valerie, comes up to me with amy. amy's wrists are bleeding through her sweater. i freak out, of course. i just don't know what to do at this point. i go get some band-aids, it's the least i could do. go back to valerie and amy. hand amy band-aids. amy goes off to bathroom. me and valerie just sort of stand there not knowing what to do. we don't know exactly why she does it or how to help, which is ironic since we are both cutters. valerie told me that she used to cut today, and because of this i told her and rolled up my sleeves. she is now the only one that knows that i am currently cutting.

10/21/19

i misplaced my school computer and some bitch at the front desk is telling me that my parents will have to pay 50 bucks for a new one. my parents will hate me for that. we're broke as shit. she's trying to guilt me into finding my computer. what is the fucking logic behind that? they gave me a loaner temporarily, but said that if i can't find it by the end of the week i'll have to pay for a new one. my headphones don't even work with the loaner. i hate this school.

in art class we have this little ritual where we clap every time someone walks into the room. today jack booed when i walked in. i hate that little shit. he has no sense of personal space. he accused me of "depressing" him because i wore black all the time. he tells me i should dye my hair blonde. he even tries to touch my hair. he asked me if i'm emo. he asked me if i'm trans. he asked me why i "became, like, gothic." he called a girl in my class fugly twice and the next day he got mad at her for "being mean" to him and when i called him out he said he never called her that. he always whines about problems with his family in circle. i couldn't care less. i hope that flamboyant obnoxious fuck gets hit by a truck (poem not intended).

today amy told me that some 7th grade kid named miguel said i "was a girl in 6th grade." i'm sick of letting people walk all over me, so i tried to find him. i failed. while i was in the bathroom, a bunch of kids started kicking the door of my stall really hard. don't know who or why. i don't feel safe at this school.

i sneaked into the art room at lunch and stole an x-acto knife. cut my left hand 5 times. it barely even hurt. my mental pain is much worse than this physical pain.