When it rains

Some surreal things have happened lately. I can feel it in the air, the strangeness of it. Some things are not personal, but still make an impact in our personal lives.
I woke up late two days ago to two news. My sister has malaria, and she is alone in a remote continent. Sure, it sounds worse than it probably is, but it's still very hard, and I can tell my mother feels it weigh on her, especially since she has heard less from her than she likes. One thing we're sure about, though, and that is that my grandmother is not to know until she is safely home with us. It just sounds too bad.

The other thing was that a bridge in our town that we use frequently, has collapsed and people have died. I'm sure people from big cities think it's irrational to take bad things like this to heart. But this is not something normal for us to deal with, and it still sticks. I drove under it myself the day before, and had I still been seeing my psychologist, we might well have been there.

Some times I feel as though I like misery. Murders, disasters, disappearances; I can't help looking at it. I will spend a full day browsing through missing children, just because I feel like someone should. The thought that these missing people have to be somewhere and someone knows something. It stays in my head, like an obsession.

No wonder I won't talk about it

I just came back from a meeting with my school. I knew it wasn't going to be good, but I'm now so used to blocking it out that I didn't feel it until I sat down. It's quite heartbreaking, really. This is my second attempt at finishing the second year of school(of three), and I failed again. This time she suggested that I take two years and split up the classes. Since I'm such a basket case, it will probably be the same with the last year. Which means I'll have spent seven years finishing this, while my previous friends are graduating this year. I want to die. I don't even want this education that much, there's nothing I want to do further regarding schools. But I can't mention my ridiculous dreams, since I have no idea how I can actually make that happen.

The reason I still try finishing school, is because of appearances. Then I(well, mostly my parents) wouldn't have anything to say to people who ask what I'm doing with my life. Sitting in that office I realized why I can't seem to believe fully that my dad loves me(or anyone for that matter). He's always supporting me, moving me forward, making all these meetings. But in that moment I said I don't really want to apply to anything after this school anyway and he told me I can't spend my life in my room. I could see contempt in his eyes. Contempt and disgust. Afterwards he smiles, laughs, continues supporting me, but no words can make up for that look.

It hurts me more than anything because he is my only friend. I adore him. I want to be everything he is, and I crave his approval and affection. But I can't feel it. The look tells me he is as disgusted with me as I am. Leaving the office, the first thing on my mind was that I should just kill myself. Four more years so that he might feel proud of me. The last three have been so tiring, I feel like I've aged 20 years. Maybe my dreams were never meant to be, and neither was I.

Low point

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.