Rip my soul

I just need to get this out before my thoughts perish into some kind of void.

I... I just feel like giving up. I know I won't give up but I want to.

My whole body aches. It feels like I've run a marathon but I've only gone to school and work this day. My mind feels dull and sharp at the same time. I might enter a new phase of my weird "depression" now during march.

I've gone through so two phases already, in January the crying panicky phase, in February the dull, tired, uninspired phase, and what is now in store, the psychosomatic phase??

I just don't want to do it anymore. I don't want to stress myself to the point of death and destruction, and I fear I will. I will cry, rip a whole in my stomach and skin and get rashes again and other bodily diseases
and
just thinking about the spring
makes me...

want to die.

Sweet dreams are made of this

While we're at it, I want to tell about two dreams I've had during this month.

In the first I was at a library with a friend. This friend has had her problems irl during growing up which led her to be a nihilist. And there, in the dream, in the library, she suddenly shows me a hand grenade that she carried around. She told me we should blow the place up, and before I could react she threw the hand grenade and it exploded. I remember the horrible hurting sensation the smoke gave me, it hurt so much breathing explosion smoke down your throat.
We ran away. I was scared, scared of being caught and seen as an accomplice in this crime. And my throat hurt so bad.

The second dream however was different. I was kidnapped by Dettlaff, the villain in Witcher 3 Blood and Wine. He threatened me, told me he'd strangle me to death. I begged him to not do it, and it was clear this was pure pornograpfy for him, seeing a human begging for her life. This continued a few times and he got stoked by my pleading. The whole situation gave him a boner or something like that. And for me, the feeling of being a masochist was... different. I managed to run away eventually, but damn it was an intense dream!

"haunted girl"

This picture here is an acrylic painting I painted when I was an eight grader (14y old). I painted this in school, at an art lesson, and I remember the teacher being so mesmerized, so impressed by this painting that she hung it up on the wall for weeks and weeks and asked all her seventh grade classes which feelings this painting radiates.

She later told me that the seventh graders had answered that this painting radiates sorrow.

I got the highest score for this painting, a pure 10 (out of 10) for it.

I still wonder why she gave me such a high score for it. Maybe she was impressed that a girl my age could comprehend such feelings and was able to transform them into a painting?
Hadn't she seen anything like this before? That would be weird, I mean, feeling like the worst piece of shit ever is not that unusual for teenagers. Hadn't just anyone communicated these feelings into the outer world?

Was the 10 on a paper her way of saying: "It's gonna be okay"?

Or was her grading just an objective fact that I was a skilled painter?

What I love

I love love love writing! This is one of the things I know I am good at

Ever since I was a little girl I have written stuff. But they've always been gory, the things I've written. The first story ever I wrote om Word that I remember of was about a boy and a girl and a dragon, and then the police wanted to kill the dragon. I was like what, six years old? I learned to read and write at four, so this wasn't a problem.

You know, when writing you're confirming stuff for yourself. You can do anything to your characters, or rather, the characters can do anything you wish them to do. And the feeling I get when creating, when writing is pure magic. It really is.

Right now I'm writing a script about a girl who becomes obsessed with the thought of becoming immortal by dying a specific death. Creepy stuff. Good stuff. I love writing.

aaaaaahh

I hate having winter depression. Or whatever this is to be called. I hate Januaries and Februaries, because according to statistics, this is the third January and February I want to skip because the inside of me is dying.


I have almost no energy left. I feel anger, and all my energy goes to being angry. I was close to freak out at my work and I felt the need to be silent, because else I would've hurt someone.

I am so tired. Of everything. Of people. Of waking up. Of DOING STUFF. Of going to school.

And yet I do all of those things without whining. I smile to people and talk with respect, even when the inside of me want to strangle that person. I wouldn't ever skip a lesson because I'm tired. I wouldn't skip my job or my pony or anything because I'm tired. I have a good discipline on myself.

Like when I was 16-18 I never EVER let myself sleep for a second efter the first and only alarm sounded.

Discipline. Discipline yourself. Don't freak out. Don't be a freak. Don't let them know.

Accept this. Accept yourself in silence. Be silent. Don't shout at them. Don't shout at yourself. Don't harm yourself. Don't sleep. Or sleep. I don't want to sleep more than necessary. Sorry, wrong brain.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Cry. In silence. Don't let them know. This is a secret. Between us. Who? The ghost of my brain, and I. We. We are one.

Talk. Talk to them. Tell them. I know.