I’m so glad of being here again. I was missing this, the people and the entries… everything. I feel really happy right now because I missed everyone.
Haven’t written in a while. It’s because I was busy, being a bad person. I already wrote a note to my imaginary friend (he killed himself a few weeks ago) apologizing because the things I’ve done. I’m sorry, I feel guilty. I think it wasn’t such a big deal but anyway… it was just wrong.
Talking about something else, I tried marijuana  last tuesday. It was an interesting experience, I wasn’t completely high but I did was feeling the effects of the drug. It was good, I realized that I had sense of touch and I was engrossed with the rain falling on my skin. I will try LSD soon.
Now I know that one of my friends (who’s my soulmate, by the way) tries to hate me but he just can’t. If that’s true, he’s in the same situation that I am. I try to hate him, but I end up hating myself for trying it.
I thought recently in getting help, with the suicide thought and depression. While I was almost high, I thought about going home and killing myself. Can you believe that? The suicide is always in my head, every second, every day. I thought about getting some help with the school counselor or with a friend that was about to kill herself a few years ago. But I hadn’t done anything of that. Is because I want that someone hear me, and talk to me, but I don’t want to be free from this. I am a slave to depression, and, honestly, it doesn’t bother me. Maybe I want help and I don’t know it. I don’t know.
My dad was (is?) and alcoholic, and I knew about that two days ago. He started to drink about a year ago.
A reason that I have for wanting drugs is that I want to leave this reality. I just want to avoid this, all of this. I want help, but just Boddah’s help.
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4 comments
My mother is an alcoholic- they stay that way, the only thing that changes is the fact of whether they’re recovered or not. Please don’t do drugs. I know that’s coming from a PSA, but I’m serious- it can lead to a deadly road, and although you’ve considered suicide, I don’t believe it’s a good road, and I believe you agree. You said you have missed this place, because of the people and the experiences that we all share. We have to help ourselves, and the way we find help is with this, with people, people who may understand or at least have felt some of the emotions we have been feeling. It’s good to talk to someone, or better yet, write some more. Writing can get more of our emotions out than talking ever could- not in a Dear Diary form, but simply ranting with fragments of sentences or a couple of words.
I know that the idea of drugs is really stupid and dangerous, but I’m so self-destructive. I’ll see if I can’t stop me, but I don’t think so. I do think that writing is something very helpful. I write poetry and about my own thoughts as a therapy.
There’s a massive difference between using chemicals to have fun with your friends and using them to escape pain and reality.
The problem is, you want to do the drugs to escape. That immediately puts you in the high-risk category for terrible times ahead. Basically, you should know that it has never worked once for making lives better in that way for anyone. EVER.
It’s a temporary mask and often compounds the pain when you get to feel it again.
Every post I’ve read, every person I’ve spoken to about folks that have gone this route get caught up in a never-ending spiral of more sorrow, loss and regret.
There’s 0 chance you’ll be any different.
I know, I know. This is dangerous, is wrong and I will end up really bad. But, as I said, I’m just so self destructive. It doesn’t matter if I start know, because (this will show you how stupid I am) I was thinking about in becoming in a heroin addict nun when I get older.