“I am genuinely paranoid that everyone secretly hates me and thinks I am really annoying and ugly and is pretending to be my friend and it’s all part of some big joke.”



Okay.  I’ve given myself until my 27th birthday. I’ll find a reason to live, whether it’s genuine love, or just some sort of ambition, drive, determination to achieve a goal, or even to just have a goal in mind.  I find this reason to live or I will check myself out.

I know that they say suicide is selfish.  Sure, but I don’t really have anyone else to think about.  There’s Arthur, the closest thing to family that I have, who I’ve talked to and has told me that if it comes down to it, he will understand.  Other than him, there’s no one.  There’s nothing else.


After my years of hiding any and all emotion, closing myself off to all things, there’s a woman that I have feelings for. She’s beautiful, kind, and yet quite feisty. A perfect combo. She also revealed, in a fit of anger with me, that she recently had a visit to the emergency room after a failed attempt at suicide. Surprising that the woman I may love is at such a low when she presents herself at an opposite to me.  Social. Chipper.  Though they do say that some of the most depressed hide it so well. Also an opposite as I don’t hide anything.  I’ll let you know that I’m down. “Hey, buddy.  Guess what I’m thinking about.  Killing myself.” Laugh out loud.

Anyway.  I hope she doesn’t kill herself.  I know that she couldn’t care less about me, (I don’t either) but I think that she is amazing, and I hope that she finds whatever she needs to keep her going.