I hate myself completely once again. Quite amazing, as I thought I'd perhaps moved past that point. I keep moving down the suicide date. I actually had it set to my 40s, at one point. Now I'm planning second year of college. The entire thing is fantasy, of course, but it helps me to think about.
I fear nothing so much as failure, but failure is so easy. It's all I've really accomplished in years. And I seriously doubt my ability to accomplish anything except failure. And everyone seems to support this stance.
I keep thinking about an event from a few years ago. Freshman in high school. I had gotten all A's, and a C+ in English. Still cannot understand how the C+ happened. I swear to God the teacher was on drugs when she read my papers. Either that or I was seriously depressed and beyond coherence, either way. My mother and I were walking in the mall, and she was looking at said report card. I got lectured for the C for upwards of half an hour. My mother is very verbose. Not a word was said of the other grades.
Granted, I've never been praised for my grades. But I'd never been criticised before that either. And I think it's what made me start giving up entirely, slipping down into my hole and stop caring. If you can't succeed, what's the point of trying?
Still think that way sometimes. Not all the time. Just some. So I'm getting old and boring, most like.
I've had my makeup the same for the past three days (except for one detail, but still). This makes me feel uncomfortable. But then my mood has been the same for that long, so I suppose it's alright, really.
Steeped in self-loathing and exhaustion. I want to sleep but find the event absolutely impossible.
Started my Government class since my last post. Seems to be a thinking class, with a good amount of political discussion that goes on. This makes me very, very happy. I love classes of that sort. Always have. (But they're so rare...)
I'm sleepy. And I must go to school soon. Mwahs.
revoless.
6:47 a.m.
January 25, 2002.
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