Incomplete

I’m trying really hard right now.

I’m trying really hard to not do some things.

This week has been…

It’s beyond my basic comprehension. 

I had several panic attacks Sunday-Tuesday. Wednesday I think I worked myself up to much that I had reached a pure level of apathy. That is an extremely bad thing so my doctors tell me. Oops. 

I’ve been pushed over a lot of lines. I’ve lost all sense of organization. I still haven’t hung up my laundry from when I went home last weekend.

It just bothers me really.

I still don’t feel like I’ve crossed the line yet, which part of me feels is good. Another part of me just can’t help but wonder if I have a limit. Everyone does. Where’s my limit? What will happen if it’s ever reached?

I don’t think I should think like that though. I’m sure my psychiatrist would scold me. Surely it would mean I’d be sitting in a hospital bed.

I have found something else out.

Good thing I was having doubts on this one guy. He’s already got a girlfriend. I hate though that only recently someone decided to tell me after I told people that I found him attractive. And that they talked behind my back about it instead of just telling me. One of them finally did, in a rather round about way, but they did. I appreciate that, but it just makes me feel foolish. 

Maybe I only told them when I was too drunk to really comprehend anything though. I don’t really remember who I told or how people found out about things. A lot of things. 

The fact that people are talking about me scares me though. More so that I’m not sure what it is about me that they’re discussing. 

Is it my personal failures? Is it my recent epiphany on my future? Is it my love life?

My love life is just embarrassing, so I hope it isn’t that.

$10 says it is though.

Pathetic. 

It makes me want to shell up. I want to stay in. Home. Not go out in the world. 

I don’t want people to know things about me anymore.

But I want it to be available to them.

That is so twisted and it makes absolutely no sense. 

I guess I just don’t want to spread without people having the original source. 

I would love it if people I knew read this. Or even people I didn’t know. Although, I don’t understand why anyone who doesn’t know me would want to read this. 

Even the people that know me.

It’s so private, it’s public. 

I haven’t taken Zoloft. I haven’t taken it in a long time.

I want to take it just to see if it will help, but I don’t want to at the same time.

It made me feel so unlike myself. It’s so strong of a drug, I forget who I am. I act more strangely. I feel so… out of body. Out of mind. Nothing really makes sense. 

Maybe I’ll try something new right before break. I should tell my doctor this. I should also go to counseling… my doc’s been bugging me about it every time I see her.

I don’t want to open up to more strange people though. I don’t even tell her everything. I don’t tell her a lot of things. I lie to her a lot. It’s been getting better without “being” on the meds. I’m a horrible creature.

If I am ever completely honest with someone…. I hope it’s a person I can spend the rest of my life with. Whether it be a friend, relative, or spouse, I want them there all the time. I would prefer it to be my *hopeful* future husband, but who knows. Chances are…. split with that one. Part of me believes yes, who else would I marry if they didn’t know my deepest secrets? Part of me believes no, for who would want to marry me with my weirdness?

I’m so tired. So tired.

I shall continue this later.

It’s incomplete, like myself.

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