Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick.

I don't need this fucking shit right now. Fuck this. My envy and jealously are plaguing my God damned head. I am practically in love but I have never felt the slightest hint of reciprocation, only counterfeit experimentation. Tell me, God damn it. Just fucking tell me. Every time I see her sad, I can't help but think that it's because of someone else. Ever time I see her happy, I can't help but think that it's because of someone else. I've been told that romanticism is beyond her capacity right now, by her. But I can't help but think that it's simply an excuse to keep me away. I can't help but feel that she just wants to try to protect me, but God fucking dammit, just tell me the truth.

They're right, you know. About depression. There's a blackness in your heart. I don't know how else to describe it; it's just a darkness, a misery.
It's not a crying kind of sadness; it would feel nice to cry. You can't cry; you just keep dying inside. Sometimes you think that life isn't worth it, but then you catch yourself. But the thought still lingers in your forehead. You want to show people how sad you are; you want empathy; you want kindness; you want the entire population to pine and burn and rot just like you. You want to indulge yourself but you want it to stop. You can't imagine life without it, but you can't bear to live with it. I assume it feels like this for everyone. Maybe because of different reasons or towards different things, but it feels like this. It isn't immature; it isn't stupid; it isn't classifiable. It's just hell. Fucking hell.
You wish you show how awful you feel. You wish it's visible in your eyes. You wish that everyone that sees you knows your pain, understands it. And they probably do, but their facade is just as imperceptible as yours. So everyone goes on feeling awful and suicidal. If all the lonely, depressed, melancholy, pensive people in the world would just say so, they'd feel an empathy and understanding that would erase all their pain. But they don't.
I need to get help before I do something I don't get a chance to regret.

I wish I was bi-polar or major depressive. Then I'd at least have something to blame...

I tell myself that I'm the sensitive, deep one. I tell myself that I'm the John Cusack at my high school. I know I'm not, though. I know it. Telling myself to grow up won't do anything: I have to do it. But I don't want to; I want to indulge my immaturity. I want to stay as enamored and ignorant and stupid and crazy and depressed and melancholy as I am right now.

I feel so unwanted. Every venture only reminds you how little time you want to spend with me. Fuck. Me. I. Am. Depressed.

Why do I do this? Because I'm selfish. I'm being stupidly passive aggressive. I want attention. I want specific attention. I want you to read these.

I am willing to be just your anything, but I'm not content to. I doubt that the next will be any different from the past three, but afterwards, everything starts again. I don't look forward to it, but I can't stand things right now.

Gotta read the sparknotes for The Jungle...I wish I had actually read this book.

Be genuine but counterfeit. Be optimistic but pensive. Be thoughtful but shallow. Be fit but unhealthy. Be ugly but beautiful. Be unassuming but pretentious.

Misao Fujimura's suicide note

Delicate line between heaven and earth...
The calm of the ages,
all the world's worth.
Such minuscule measure,
while we think it so grand...
Just five specks of smallness,
This soft quiet land.
So frail and so fleeting,
in the end you will see
Simple dreams were Horatio's philosophy.

For all the truth,
all creation,
all secrets of yore
Can be told in an instant,
by then they're no more.

Ah, The Unexplainable
All worries unsettled,
heartache unresolved...
All questions unanswered,
with death, shall be solved.

We already teeter,
this sheer cliff so high.
When we fall to corruption,
insecurities die.

To end is to start;
to surrender is to know.

Despair and depression,
together they grow.
Hope shall meet hopeless
when there's nowhere to go.

So this kid was 17, my age, when he carved this poem into a tree in 1903 and killed himself afterwards. Fantastic poem.

I have my own private rollercoaster.
If someone takes responsibility for everything, and constantly apologizes, isn't that a form of narcissism? I feel that way. I blame myself for so much, but I realize that it's very narcissistic to do that: I made you sad, I bumped into you. It's my fault. I make the world go round. But I don't. I have barely any effect on anyone. The smallest action can send me into a profound depression, but I don't have that power over anyone. Maybe I wish I did. The smallest action just sent me into a profound depression, if you haven't gathered as much by now. I get so easily jealous about someone that doesn't seem to realize that I am so deeply enamored, or at least doesn't care as much as I wish. Maybe. Maybe not. I just know that I'm being ridiculous, but I will indulge my depression. I will indulge it and hide it and suppress it and continue to be in it until I grow the fuck up. Which doesn't seem to be coming soon...

Are we all moving infinitely fast? If I move an infinitesimal amount of space in an infinitesimal amount of time, am I moving at an infinite speed?

I'm just all over the place.

I'm just being stupid. Nothing can be this complicated.

FINALLY evolved my Pupitar! Planning on evolving my Dragonair today too.

Visited UNT today. It was informational, but I didn't enjoy the trip very much: I wish I had at least brought a friend.

I'm always contradicting myself. I have to let myself know that I am not infinitely more intelligent than the average person. I am not enlightened. I am not mature. I am not independent and I'm not grown up. I can't read people's minds. My thoughts are not profound. My actions are not always genuine. I don't look better and I don't act better. I am not above average and anyway and I can't let myself think that because I know this, that I somehow become above average.I will probably never contribute to a lasting effect on culture or people. I can simply be the best I can be, and my best is not better than anyone's.

I apple-a-gize to all of the ZERO people that follow me for not posting yesterday, but I did two on Monday, so it evens out. Pretty uneventful day besides my new phone arriving in the mail. Homework? Yes.

Each brief encounter leaves me more enamored and perplexed. A smile lights a jealous match and a laugh snuffs out every fire I've ever had. But an iris is charcoal and a word is a sudden conflagration.

Cynicism is just a lazy way to say you've been burned.

I'm only atoms and compounds and reactions. How am I possibly conscious? How can I possibly have free will? Do I? I do know that I'm only human. And strings can only be stretched so far before they break forever.
I've grown tired of school, which is surprising. I think it's because I actually have friends outside of school right now. I've made really, really slow progress. I couldn't care less if I am above average. I want to be objectively good.

Pretty average day. I was hoping to do stuff, but I'm not super disappointed that I didn't. Probably because yesterday was really fun. Oh well. I don't feel unique. I know that I'm not, but I wish I made more of an impression on people. A positive one, of course.

Pretty awesome day.

So I saw How To Train Your Dragon with a friend. But before that we played Jurassic Park and ate at Subway. After the movie we went to her house and played Tales of Vesperia and DDR. It was really fun.

D 'n D

So I played DnD with some friends today for the first time. It was pretty cool. We didn't actually get much done because we spend most of the time setting up our characters, but we got it rolling towards the end. Tomorrow is going to be very neat.

Oh goodness. Missing yesterday fucked me over.