Posting three times in a day, I know. You don't have to read. I'm just so sad and alone in this world. I have this huge psychology paper, and I'm not even going to attempt it. I'm just so tired and miserable. I need someone, but that is precisely the problem.
I need, but am not needed.
I want, but am not wanted.
I feel so dispensable. So useless. And it's not like I have no friends. E wanted me to come over today, but I declined. I can't deal with physical closeness right now. Debate Boy texted me a few different times, which is weird since I added him on facebook and found out he's got a girlfriend. Whatever. I'm not interested anyway. I think he's just overly friendly, and I'm desperate for any kind of attention from anyone so I'm misinterpreting.
I don't have anyone to talk to really, so here I am rambling to strangers. I am the cat in Shrodinger's box. I am alone in my sealed hell with my poison. Won't someone open the lid and discover if I am alive or dead? I don't even know myself. Both possibilities exist simultaneously. The urge to self-injure is so strong. I've been resisting, but I don't know for how much longer. I smoked a cigarette this afternoon, and that helped some. I think I might smoke another around midnight if I'm still awake and still consumed by this self-destructive melancholy. I am a miserable piece of shit, but won't someone care anyway?