Up and down. Up and down.
I feel better for a bit and then come right back down.
I just stared at myself in the mirror for ten minutes. I stood still and looked myself directly in the eye.
It was the only thing I could think of to keep me from hurting myself.
I don't want to be alive anymore.
The little bit of hope that comes in on my up days just make things worse.
I fantasize about being in prison or solitary confinement.
Because then I would have a release date.
I would know when my solitude would be over.
I would be able then to just relax and wait.
But now, now my period of isolation could be over tomorrow. It could be another four or ten years.
I have no way of knowing.
So each day I woke up hoping something will be different.
That if I just get my attitude right and manifest reality and am present and do everything perfect,
then I will catch a break.
But each night I end up here alone. Talking to myself and trying to find a movie or music that will help me fall asleep.
And now that I have realized that I can't afford the GRE or grad school applications and thus won't be going to grad school next fall. I feel even more despondent.
All this work. All this isolating hard work. In just eight weeks it won't matter.
I'll be right back to where I was before I started school.
Broke. Alone. Looking for a job. Wishing I could just write full time.
I am so seriously scared for what's after graduation.
When I look into the future, I see absolutely nothing after December 16th.
It's just an abyss.
Full of potential, yes.
Both for adventure and tragedy.
I know I can keep myself alive until then.
But only barely.
But on December 17th?
Well, let's hope something changes before then.
11:43 p.m. - 2016-10-08
Recent entries:
Sometimes Writing Doesn't Make You Feel Better. - 2016-11-06
I can't think of a clever title. - 2016-11-01
The Sufferers - 2016-10-24
My thoughts today. - 2016-10-17
It's a start. - 2016-10-13
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