I'll say it once and once only, because if I've said it once, I've said it too many times:

Karma is a *****.

And no, I guess I haven't suffered enough according to the rest of the universe. And I'm free game for people to line up and just hit me over and over. It would hurt less than this.

And the timing of my karma has to be the most rigged thing in my life. It's like the world has it out for me. Everybody is staring and whispering about it. They all know.

I mean, I know they don't, but I can't help but get lost in this way of thinking. It's not worth it.

I stayed up until 2 or 3 in the morning just crying. Listening to the same songs and staring up at the ceiling. My physical body trying to reject itself. Like I'm imploding. My vision blurry, wanting to scream but nothing happens.

I don't want this.

There's nothing that can even be done to even attempt to save this. So I'm done.

I'm done.

The emotions run on highs and lows. But lately I feel like I'm burning below ground with the flames of hellfire scorching my backside. And with all the smoke damage, there is no room to breathe.

I cannot stop crying to say my life.

It's like it's on a schedule.
Crying in school, after school, in my car, at home, to my parents, to my teachers, to no one at all. For sometimes... hours.

I have officially become so broken that I've become pathetic. So I don't know. I'm a wreck. I cannot even think about this without hating myself, and I can't talk about it without crying.

I'm a broken fricken record about this story. Saying it over and over.

Apologizing over, and over, and OVER.

I am so sick of it. I do not want this, but I can't escape it. As much as I may want to, I can't. It is so easy to write about the bad.

I can't remember one good thing last said by someone important.
But I have a million good things to say about them. I always will.

And you're the one who's sorry?
Not as sorry as I am.

I don't want to be told to "get over it" as if it was ever that easy.

And I hate this. I really do. There is nothing left here. So I guess you were right about me being nothing more than my mistakes. I hope you take pride in being right. Because I am barely hanging on.

And you decided to walk away.

That's okay.

After all, this is the real me right? I've secretly always been this monster. I'm nothing more than you say.

So tell me what I am.

Every day feels the same.

I wear the same checkered shirts, eat the same food, go to the same classes, cry at the same story.

It never changes. And it never ends.

My life continues to be a TV drama gone wrong and all I want to do is burn it all. My shoulders are too high, shaking in 3 second shockwaves. My face is losing colour and life. The energy drained from my body. Strength beaten out of my arms and back.

There is not a whole lot of me left. So don't go looking for the living among the dead. Not if the host's body is already a graveyard.

Not a lot left to lose except for my own lone life. But I'm thanatophobic so an empty threat suicide isn't really doing anything.

And no, I don't want to hear about how "good of a person I am".

It makes me sick, I'm sick of hearing about how this is going to get better. I do not care to hear how it is "so easy" to just switch back to how I used to be.

It is never that easy.

I don't care if I can make this better, because right now, it is not up to me.

What I do, does not matter.

There will be no justice...

And no forgiveness.

At least I'm still in pain. It assures me that I am feeling anything at all.

History.

Never really the highlight of my day. But always a stand out part of my day. Always structured the same way, never changed, but not boring. It's the kind of repetition you get used to, and for me, sometimes I'm thankful for it.

Hell, something has to stay the same. And with everything that's happened, I'm glad some things never change.

Or some people.

Dear God, nothing ever does come easy. And nothing ever will from here on out. So I'll just give in to my fate. Changing everything. Or nothing at all.

You know some looks could definitely ****. I don't have that gut to just be inherently evil. Although I seem to be that anyway. I don't have the strength to look over my shoulder. I have too much shame in that.

It's like a tell, there is no breaking it. And it *****. The voice is enough to throw me off.

I cannot shake this. It's just one event right? One semi-life-changing problem that took its toll on everyone involved.

What have I done? What can I do now?

Is there such a thing as starting over? No. Not really.
Because unless we all induce amnesia on what happened, we do not forget what happened. We still hate each other. And the pride that comes along with that is nothing short of destructive.

If you're right, you're right. And if you're right, I have to be wrong.
And I am. I'm mature enough to acknowledge and wear my shame like my checkered shirts.

There is no such thing as a happy ending. We make mistakes, people don't forgive, we die, we fail, we do everything to deny our failure. And if we don't... then we carry our shame with the entirety of our shoulders.

After 2 weeks of being away from school, here I am again. And if I'm going to live through this week, I should tell you right away, it is going to be hell.

It's already eating at me and I am doing my best to pretend I'm okay. Because what's the use of feeling like nobody can fix me?

Because nobody can. I'm so broken that it's funny. Yeah, I can laugh about it. I already have. When I poured out my pain to my mom I was laughing and crying.

But it quickly turned from funny to just sad. For... a multitude of reasons. I think I'll keep the keys around my neck just to prove a point. That I can showcase my pain without anybody really caring. So... what now?

There is nothing I can do, the friendships aren't dependent on my actions. They never have been. I guess one thing worth mentioning is that I redo the sharpie on the key everyday. Just to keep it clear and legible.

And because forgetting this doesn't seem to be an option at this point. And my stubbornness in forgetting is... there. But that's always been a part of my life. So I distract myself with my work, however boring it may be.

And it's not all boring, but it is more than effective when it comes to my mental state. It's exhausting. But it works. And that is... enough?

Probably not. Ugh, nothing is making sense. I'm at a loss for once in my life. A loss of... well... what seems like everything. And for a teenager yeah, my situation does seem very "end of the world" like. But I try desperately not to overreact. But I do. And I will.

I've been watching too many episodes of "Being Erica" in my spare time. So maybe I should write my regrets out on paper. My biggest regret?

February - April Era.

Why? Well I won't bore you with the details, but let's just say I made a series of mistakes and the consequences came just as quickly as the mistakes were made.

And I know this isn't a TV show, so I know there is no taking back what happened. There are no do-overs. I could create a list of regrets, but that seems like it wouldn't help anybody.

So just for future reference, if we are going to work together, you're going to need to invest in a good punching bag. Trust me, it'll come in handy. I mean, I get mad and when push comes to shove, it's either gonna be you or the punching bag. And I think you might want to keep your body in tact.

Anyways, I guess since we're going to be spending these sessions together, you might as well get to know me. Most of my life is driven by 2 things:

Music and my friends.

And so far... one of those categories is slowly going. It's the whole reason I'm in therapy right now. I need your help.

My life is off the rails and maybe I am making too much of a big deal of this. So teach me how to live life on a restart. How to live... alone?

Or just... how to live at all.

So let's just get started shall we? I'll just write away this therapy like I did months ago. And honestly, this coming week will be hell on earth. But I'm willing to take it. Maybe I will just cry about it.

Maybe I won't.