Mood: Fucked.
Music: Ai no Uta (Magenta Rain) -- Aikawa Nanase

Gee, I’m sooo glad everyone enjoyed my fic. -_-;;; Not one person even bothered to read it, according to my tracker thing anyway.

Wow. I feel so special.

That’s sarcasm.

I thought it was kind of a neat idea to continue it from my last journal entry and all, but I guess not.

*sigh*

All well. I honestly don’t give a damn. It’s not like it matters.

Nothing really matters, does it?

Man.

I think something’s wrong with me. More so than usual I mean.

I’m so moody. And I keep getting agitated and nervous and bitchy and I dunno.

Smoking more so than usual. Hell, have even gotten high a few times the last few days.

I’m kind of scaring myself.

I feel...

So worthless. I despise myself.

Usually I’m good at hiding things. I’ve been feeling so off, that people are noticing.

Mom has been babying me and worrying, which makes me feel guilty. I hate it when I worry people. That’s why I try so hard to not show my fucked up-ness.

Jiro has been extra nice too. Listening to me rant and ramble about stupid things, and fic ideas. (Mainly ToS related.)

Dad on the other hand, just gets pissed off at me. For example:

I didn’t feel like talking to him. I didn’t really even feel like being alive at the moment, so talking wasn’t a high priority. Trying to stay sane was taking precedence.

Yet I got roped into going with him to pick out my grandfather’s birthday gift.

See, Dad only wants to have anything to do with me when he needs me, or for his obligatory “spend money on the kids so I don’t have to feel guilty about never having a god damn thing to do with them” of course.

Well I wasn’t chatty in the car. I didn’t feel like talking. So I didn’t. Dad kept asking me what my deal was, and why I was being pissy, etc.

I felt like screaming at him “I don’t know you fucking idiot, that’s the problem! I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

Like he would care anyway.

I’m not too fond of my Dad anymore. The older I get, the less I like him. Yeah, sure, he spends loads of money on Jiro and me. But it’s just so he can justify his lack of a relationship with us. “Oh, I’ll just buy them things, that way I don’t have to have anything to do with them. Kids? What kids? Oh those strangers I spend a half an hour with twice a month? Yeah...I kind of know them. What’s their names again?”

Anyway, moving on from my lame, workaholic dad...

I don’t know what my deal is. I know I’m always a moody freak, but it’s getting worse.

I feel so...

Pressured, tired, lost, empty, worthless, ugly, disgusting. I can’t express how much I hate myself.

I feel nervous. Jumpy. Shaky inside. Agitated? I mean not violent agitated or anything like that, just, bitchy/nervous agitated. I’m not homicidal. -_-;;;; I may be insane, but I’m not that insane. Geez.

I know where this razorblade is. A shiny, sharp, razorblade. I have it hidden away...

I know where it is, and I swear...

I keep thinking about it.

*is a loser, cutter freak*

I try not too.

It’s hard not too.

Ugh, I hate myself.

God I’m fucked.

This entry is pointless. It’s not like anyone cares that I’m a stupid fucked up freak. Hell, I don’t even care. Heh.

Just ignore me.

Later. I'll continue last entry later. When I'm not feeling as emotionally unstable or whatever. -_-;;;;

Rae