Blog from 3/9/07
We went out drinking tonight, somewhere obscure, I'm not sure where. Katie and Krupa got very, or at least somewhat tipsy. I'm a bit tipsy but not really too much. But I am at least to the point that the "black ick" is creeping upon me. I want to cry. I want to run out and place my hands against the cold stone buildings to feel everything here, here in Florence. I found out the problem. The problem is is that I don't really feel like I'm here. I don't feel alive. I feel like I'm not really part of my surroundings. I feel so lonely, unattached. God, if I cannot be happy in Italy, where can I? Where can I be happy? Why does this black ick consume me everywhere? Why am I so blah? I should be excited, happy, and silly with my friends. I should be drinking in every moment, feeling so alive. All I want to do now is find a dark room, crawl into a warm corner (cause I'm cold) and cry. I want to cry my eyes out, cut myself, band my head against a wall, drink myself into oblivion. I want to do drugs, weed, feel nothing, fuck somebody emotionless. So much beauty surrounding me, so much love, so much everything and I'm miserable. I know what's going to happen in my future, I know my life. It is going to be filled with so much misery. I'm going to be faking happiness everyday and then at night I'm going to fall apart. I might end up like my fucking mother. I will end up there only because it is my worst fear and I'm subconsciously leading myself there.
I mean, out of all this crap, I still don't know why I am so unhappy. No boyfriend. No future. No money. Nobody.
Why does anything matter? When I am the most unhappy, my friends ignore me. They don't even see me. I become invisible. This is why I don't share my pain. Because it is so random. What would I even say?
You see there. I just acted sad and distant in front of Krupa. Nothing. I hate my life. I hate this black ick. It does nothing but drag me under.
I mean, out of all this crap, I still don't know why I am so unhappy. No boyfriend. No future. No money. Nobody.
Why does anything matter? When I am the most unhappy, my friends ignore me. They don't even see me. I become invisible. This is why I don't share my pain. Because it is so random. What would I even say?
You see there. I just acted sad and distant in front of Krupa. Nothing. I hate my life. I hate this black ick. It does nothing but drag me under.
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