Monday, April 7, 2008

Psychiatric Hospital?


Last Saturday, I talked to my counselor, and he told me that if Zoloft doesn't work within 2 weeks...

I am going to be sent to a sort of psychiatric ward. Other kids my age will be there, some of which will have problems like mine. People at the place will watch me and find out more about me.

My thoughts?
I sure hope Zoloft doesn't work, because I would love a chance to be observed by lots of people, to get away from my family, and meet other kids with problems.

I wonder what would happen if I lied and said that it wasn't working.
Last night I was feeling pretty bad. I would have cut if I hadn't lost my razor.

I can't believe I lost it because I had it hidden somewhere, and I kept finding it when I didn't want it, but now it's lost.
I mean, I guess it's good since I can't cut even if I want to, but it's not that I want to cut as much as I need my friend. The blade is my friend.
Losing the blade was like losing Frankie, the dead spider who hung from the ceiling. I named him Frankie and talked to him once in a while.
But then he disappeared, and I am still mourning for him. When I look up at the ceiling and see that Frankie isn't there, I feel bad. I miss him.
I miss my blade. I talked to it a little, too. (usually just terms of endearment because I loved it) I have kissed my blade. I use it to talk to my blood, too (more terms of endearment, but more lustful and more... loving). So I've lost two friends because I lost it...

Wednesday, April 2, 2008


It's April.

I shall be 14 in less than 3 weeks. Woohoo.

I feel horrible. Zoloft doesn't work, okay? It's not working.

They need to try something else. Maybe some kind of acupuncture.

Oh yeah, bloodletting! That would make me feel better.

Heck, maybe the reason it worked in the Middle Ages was because cutting is addicting, therefore you feel better after you get cut...

Either way, I shouldn't cut, but I will if I still feel bad tonight or something.

I'll try to go to school tomorrow. I'll actually make an effort.

If anyone asks where I've been, I'll say, "I don't have to tell anyone." and they'd better leave me alone.

If they don't, I'll tell them that if they cared about me enough to ask me where I was, they should have been able to stop me from getting addicted to cutting in the first place.

I feel like getting angry at someone or something.

Wow, it took less than 2 hours to be finished with what I was doing with the Internet. See, I can cut down on it. I'll learn to cut down...

Cut... down...