The best word for it, I spiral. I get better and I get worse, like a rollercoaster just getting flung up and down and up and down. But I've not spiraled quite this far since the last time I tried to hurt myself. 

I isolated myself, as I always end up doing. Now Max won't talk to me, which is fair, one more friend I'll never see again. Part of me mourns, but a now much larger part is glad that I now have one less person to disappoint. Because edventually, I disappoint everyone. Rollercoaster has to go back down, and I've disappointed everyone again. 

I finally have the option of therapy, quite literally just got my new insurance last week, so I *can* afford therapy now. But, what good would it do? I can't put into words why it all sucks, there's no good reason I think. I hate myself, but for no good reason. Realizing how pointless it is doesn't make me hate myself any less, what could a therapist tell me that would change that? How can you reason with the unreasonable?

It's october, I've been on a horror kick, chasing old movies and games hoping the thrill would make me feel alive. But it's all just pixels. I went to the store today, everyone's eyes were on me, I couldn't bring myself to breath near anyone, I held my breath and audibly gasped after I past them because my lung capacity is shit. The outside, life, people, judgement, that's what's really horrifying, no movie can top it. When I think about my own brain, the things it conjures up and tells me, it's Lovecraftian. 

I didn't plan to live to 18, and now I'm navigating in the dark. I've lost so many friends, hurt so many people, just this year. I burden my family, emotionally and financially, I worry my best friends and ignore the ones I can't muster up the energy to interact with. My diet has been thrown to the wind and I've stopped looking when I cross the street. 

At this point, I'm not sure I plan to live to 19.