Afraid
Monday, Oct. 07, 2002 ~ 11:08 p.m.

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I had another crying spell tonight. One of many that I've had lately actually.

Moving here hasn't helped me any. But it hasn't made anything worse either. I don't feel like I've lost anything. Perhaps 'cause I've always felt that I lost every thing 7 years ago when I got moved down to San Diego. You know, when I lost my best friend along with all my other childhood friends. It was hard, but I never imagined that I'd feel like I do now. It doesn't take much to get my crying. Tonight it was something that my dad said, something that shouldn't have even bothered me that much. But that's alright I suppose.

I was watching 7th Heaven tonight, and Lucy had a paper to write. It was actually an outline for an auto biography. Part of what she had to do was point out some major accomplishments that she's made. That got me thinking.

I haven't done anything worth mentioning. Someone here mentioned that they admired me for having the courage to move 3000 miles away from everything I ever knew, but that wasn't courage. That was cowardice. Maybe it wasn't even that. Maybe it was just one of those decisions that I made on a whim. The original decision that I made back at the beginning of the year was made without much thought. Then, when it got closer to the time when I said I was going to move, I realized I wasn't anywhere near ready to do it, but something so stupid pushed me over and made me quit my job, completely drain my bank accounts and move those 3000 miles.

I've realized that all I did was move. I left those who know what's going on with me. I left those that I could talk to even though I didn't. I can't talk to my dad about this. He'd probably say I could, but I can't tell him about the things that go through my mind. For example, I can't tell him that I think I'm depressed, that I don't like how I feel or how I act half the time. I can't tell him that I'm not afraid to die. I can't tell him that I've wondered what it would feel like if I took all the pills that I have in this room at one time, all the Contac and the Tylonol and the Aleve. I can't tell him that I've wondered how it would feel if I pulled the edge of a knife over my wrist and pressed down. I've even thought about trying it out, just to see how much it might hurt. I figured that I could just press a little bit, not enough to really do any damage, but enough to make me bleed.

Honestly, all of these thoughts scare me. I'm not afraid to die and I've thought about what it would be like to do it, but I don't want to die. I don't think I could put my parents through that, especially my dad. I don't think he could handle losing another child, but I'm also afraid that sometime down the line I might forget that I could hurt other people with my actions. I might get lost in how I feel. I might just decide that I hurt too much and forget that there are other people who share my hurt.

I don't think there's much more that I can say about any of this. I know that I should go see someone about this, and I've taken a few little tests online for depression and bipolar disorder and I've tested "positive" for both. The "positive" just means that there's a possibility that I could be diagnosed for either of them. One of the screening sites offered addresses for doctors who give free in person depression screenings. I thought about going, but I'm afriad.

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