I realize I haven't written anything for a while. To be honest, I just haven't felt much since last time. I feel numb. This is because I haven't done anything. If I don't go out and meet my fears, I don't have to be sad. I don't have to be anything. When I go out, I am a failure. I haven't succeeded in anything, and life is passing me by. I won't be able to go back to school with my absence, and really, what's the use of even trying again? It's too fucking depressing trying to finish my second year for the third time.
I don't see my body when I'm alone. It doesn't exist. I don't acknowledge it. If I lived alone, I probably wouldn't even shower. When I am faced with it, I feel horrible. But it is what it is because I ignore it like I ignore all my problems.
Where is my life going? I am heading straight to the grave. I joke to my parents that I'll probably never move out on my own, but be institutionalized instead. The joke is the closest to the truth I've gotten with my parents.
I had a meeting with a pscyhologist last tuesday. She seemed worried. She makes me promise I'll contact her if I feel like I might do something, but the truth is, I probably won't. She also makes me fill out something called BDI, or Beck Depression Inventory. I think I scored a 34, which I guess is a personal record. People always ask what's happened that makes me worse than I was before. Nothing happened, I was just in a situation where I couldn't suppress my life.
I feel like I should call someone right now. I'd like to call my dad, but it's the middle of the night and it's so close to christmas. I don't want to ruin the one time of the year when my parents are in the same room for more than one hour. My dad's been through so much, why do I have to break his heart? So I'll stay quiet. I owe him that.