all i really have to say

In a way, this is probably the most pointless thing I've ever written. It's not going to change anything, it's not even going to 'get it off my chest'. Because things dont change, not really, do they? Either I cant let them change, I cant seem to grow and adjust to it. Or maybe its the external things that dont change. But, mosty, its me.Sometimes, I think i've got it all sussed-this magical life mystery- and the it comes and smacks you in the face again.and again. and makes you wonder why you bothered in the first place. Each time it knocks you, it takes longer and longer to pick up and try again. Yes, you learn as you go along. I'll tell you some things I've learnt shall I?

That you've only really got yourself. Because it doesnt matter how much people tell you they care-it doesnt make it better, it doesnt take it away. That you can hate yourself incredible amounts, and that it can get more and more until you feel drowned by it.I have learnt, and I have curved. All the way back to where i started. A complete circle. Because the most important thing i have learnt, is that i have this really special ability to just screw everything up for myself. Its like this inbuilt ability-'oooh something has worked out, quick what can I do to balls it all up'.I get into Uni to study what i wanted, and I fuck it all up by shoving a razor blade into my artery the minute things start to get tough. well, brilliant old me. Tomorow I have a meeting with the head of the faculty to discuss how im coping. This is because in a moment of idiotic weakness i confessed to one of my tutors that i felt like shooting myself cos i was so stressed, and railroaded by the whole situation. ANd how am I coping with that stress? By cutting myself up a little bit more. Apparantly, i havnt already learnt and curved quite enough on that one.

I always thought suicide notes were a little bit odd, yknow. Like, why bother? If it feels that bad, then how the fuck can you even write it down. Maybe thats the real test of how bad I feel. Because I cant even find the energy to even bother with all that. people would find my diary, they would read all about my secrets, my private thoughts. So why give them a headstart. I mean, can you imagine? - 'dear whoever finds me, i cant be bothered to be alive anymore, it hurts too much. please say thanks to Cornall HTT for me'. that would actually be it. Shit, thats actually quite tragic. Thats my life, and thats all i have to say.

I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I was clever enough to start over, do this and move on. The thing is, I fogot to work in the fact that im the same old me-and thats not counting for very much.

I should have just bled to death while i had the chance. At least I know a sure fore way of getting it right now though. Cos clearly, OD'ing isnt going to work for me, or i would have been gone years ago. I couldnt do anything 'traumatic' like jumping in front of a train, cos I dont want to mess anyone else's life up. ditto jumping off buildings/in front of buses and all that jazz. Hanging. well,  I tried that in cornwall and brought down half my ceiling. So that would need some thought.

I feel horrid. Ive felt horrid for years and i cant see it ever getting better. I dont want to just be going through the motions anymore.

thats all.