July 20th.

Wake up.

Listening to: Astronaut: A Short History Of Nearly Nothing - Amanda Palmer.
Mood: Just...no.

I wish I was easier to understand.

I'm sorry that this is the way I feel. And I'm starting to think I'll never change. Maybe I just don't fit into traditional roles in that respect. There are other people like that, right? Right?

I'm getting paranoid. My head is just...spinning. I should be happy. I SHOULD BE HAPPY. NOTHING IS WRONG. WHY DOES EVERYTHING FEEL WRONG.
Why can't I be happy?
It's like I've forgotten how.

I'm so angry right now. I don't even know why. I think I may be angry at myself for being...not right. There's just something not right about me.
I can't stop dreaming about the ocean. Being in it. Becoming part of it. Becoming it. Not drowning, just...being.
I just want to be peaceful and cold.
And maybe I don't want to be fixed. I'd rather be crazy than not be myself. I don't care if it kills me, I'm not doing that anymore. I want to be peaceful, not numb. Not different.

You're making me tremble again.

It's not fair.