This is also going to be on the long list of good/bad ideas.

Because you need to sort out your ******* life, and nobody does that better than you do.
Only because you can only count on yourself for something like this. So there is nothing else to worry about.

You are still the same person you were.
Just, I don't know... more of a sap?
Yeah, probably.

Anyways, when you feel stuck... like now for example, just let your words fall from you hands.

You still hold all of this in your life right?

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.

Any day now, I'm either gonna **** somebody, or end up dead myself.

Dramatic, I know.

And hey, maybe nobody will take me seriously when I say that.

Figures.

So far, the only people who give a **** are the people who believe I'm still a good person. And I'm not saying they're wrong, I'm just saying it doesn't matter to me if they're right.

Because I don't feel I deserve anything.

I can never focus on anything. I'm writing this because I should be doing other work right now. But when I'm not thinking about this, I'm overworking, or sleeping, or crying again, or shouting again.

I feel physically sick just being in this much pain. It's never gonna be driven out of my body until I get a **** miracle.

But those aren't really coming my way.

If karma is responsible for all of this than haven't I endured enough? Something needs to break the cycle. Or I just have to break. Act out, get expelled or suspended, consider the empty possibility of my thanatophobia finally leaving me.

I stopped caring about myself when an old enemy decided to step in and come after me. But the remarkable thing is that I handled it without attracting more trouble. That doesn't mean it didn't pain me to set myself aside to do so.

I'm not a complete pacifist. And my dangerous nature only gets stronger when left unquestioned by all. So yeah, I'm scared as hell of myself. But then again, so are other people.

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.

I told you so.

It doesn't really feel good to be right. Everything is *******. I haven't told anybody, but I have a feeling some people will know very soon.

This is killing me. It's Killing ME.

I'm going.
Help me **** it!

I don't want this.
I want a way out.
I want to go home.

But home isn't there anymore.
Home is not here.

And it won't be. Not anytime soon. Maybe not ever.
So I stopped trying to fight the brokenness. Not when I already shattered across the floor.

Every day feels like a public hanging. Accusations and no defence from me. I'm not okay.

So I will not return until I'm better. When that is, I have no idea. It could just never end. I could break and rage out, calling the hypocrisy and justification of how unfair this is.

Don't I deserve to be seen at all?

But if I'm not here, then who really gives a ****?

Fine. I'll let you live your life free of my destruction on your happiness. Because after all, I bring the drama right? And I can't escape it right? Confining me to my mistakes and nothing else.

Because hey, I never meant a **** thing to you anyway. But I won't snap just to prove you right. I'll just hope to regret sets in like it is for me.

Because I never gave up on you.
Fact.
No exceptions.

By nature, I am not a magnificent actor.

I mean, I try. My love of music and musical theatre does influence my acting ability. But even though I act in my videos for effect, or in a show for a laugh, I try to keep everything real.

Even though it's acting, I keep part of myself in my act, I stay present and honest. But that's not the kind of acting good at. Because right now I am fine. I work, I write, but to most of the world I am fine. Or at least I seem that way.

It's an act. And I am very good at playing the part. So good that I even fool myself. I forget I'm acting and just take my act as truth. Like I've always been like this. And it's terrifying to know this isn't me.

And this week I was doing well... until I wasn't.

I made it through a 6 hour workday, only to break down crying in my car just after the day ended. I didn't even expect to break until I just... did.

And losing the fifth is a pain I haven't really experienced. And now that the reality is setting in, I can't take it. I act like it. But hey, I can be a good actor when I want to be. So yeah, I am not okay.

But what can I do? It is not as easy as people say it is. At least, not for me. I can't explain it, I just don't speak up, and I shy away from getting better.

I don't say the right things, and people change, they move on, they let go.
And I... can't.

It's bordering on obsessive, making me seem crazy and unstable. I can't seem to pick myself up and let go. I mean, I don't want to. Too much good outweighs the bad for me to just give in. Or give up.

Or just... go.

If friend groups and cliques played a major role in anything, school definitely takes most of the blame. Because when you get down to the truth, people are awful.

We are just, the worst. So don't go trying to chase a utopia where we all do good by each other, because we can't. We don't ever take the route we would actually prefer in life.

Why is that? I don't know.

Like I said, people are awful. And there really is nothing you can do about it.

Okay, you what saves my soul? Laughter.
Because even when I know somebody isn't talking to me, their laughter still exists. Hearing joy and knowing that someone is okay, words aside.

And for me, that will never be enough to satisfy my loneliness. But it has to be. For their sake.
And for some reason, I still hold out hope. The slightest bit of optimism. Why? Maybe because I can see it when eye contact is made for barely 5 seconds.

I can feel us wanting to fix everything. But for some reason... we don't?

And maybe we never will. And that will never be okay but it has to be. It doesn't make sense, it never will. And that's just my life. But I don't want this all to seem like a bad dream. Because I'll just look back with regret.

And I can't live like that.

It would **** me to do so.

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.