I swear to god, I’m dying.


There have been a lot of stressors lately, just in normal everyday life. Family, financial, all of that. You know, the usual stuff.

It’s routine for me to have small meltdowns about this stuff. I get tired of being the family punching bag, told I’m a disappointment, and reminded how much I’ve ruined everyone’s lives, etc. It’s weird, living in fear of your own family. It’s exhausting trying to keep smiling and take it all in stride, so they don’t have a reason to ridicule you for being upset. Sort of like being treated subhuman and superhuman all at once.

As far as finances… what finances? I can’t get a job without failing out of university, but with no job, there’s no money. And that means no plane tickets. Which means I’m stuck over 1000 miles away from the woman I love.


Then there’s the other stuff. The not-so-everyday things. Like my house burning down.

I shouldn’t say ‘burnt down’, I guess. It’s still standing, just not livable. The main floor was mostly taken out, since it started in the kitchen, which is the main room in the house. Kitchen/living room/dining room, really. But the second floor didn’t burn, or a few rooms on the first floor. But the smoke damage was catastrophic, or so it was explained to me. Just as bad as if it actually burned.

We have to remodel, obviously. And buy all new stuff. I’ve got three shirts and four pair of pants to my name right now. It’s been this way for... I think a month now? I don’t know if any of my stuff survived. I salvaged my computer – I had to, for school – but every time I turn it on it smells like smoke, and we’re just counting down until it craps out completely. But apart from this, and those couple articles of clothing, that’s all I’ve got. I never realized how important my stuff was to me, until it was gone. I miss my books. And my plushies. And all my art work, knick-knacks, and clutter. I miss my room. Maybe I’m being melodramatic.

We leased a house in a development. Its totally empty, and it feels like a hotel, not a home. We’re not sure how long we’ll have to stay here – we were told the minimum time the house will be under construction is three months. But that was only if we were extremely lucky. But they’re still doing cleanup right now, no one has even had the chance to think about remodeling, and it’s been a month. I hate it here. I just want to go home.


And then there’s school. I know I’m not special here – everyone hates school.

It’s a crash course degree. Two years, 11 weeks straight, two week breaks. Rinse, repeat. It’s not so bad, really. The professors are nice, and I enjoy the subject matter, obviously. But I’ve never been good in social situations. This isn’t must different. Plus, this quarter, workload has been horrendous. Maybe it just seems that way because I don’t own a table anymore to do my work on. But either way, I’m scared. This is only second quarter, and I’m overwhelmed. Third quarter is supposed to be the make-or-break quarter for animation kids. I don’t want to fail.

The people are nice, really. I’m just not good with people in general. And I guess I’m too sensitive. People make jokes or fool around, and I react out of line. They liked to poke me or come up behind me and surprise me, because they thought my reactions were funny. I’d always yelp or gasp and freak out. They had no idea how horrified I am of those things – sudden movements, being snuck up on. Touched, in general. There was no way they could know, so there was no way they’d realize it was sending me into panic attacks. I asked them to stop, and for the most part they’ve listened. But I feel like an ass.

Topics of conversation are awkward, too. There’s too much that I’m sensitive too. I’ve noticed a few reoccurring subjects that get brought up – they’re weird subjects, and it’s never brought up seriously, mostly just joking around. Rape is one of them. Don’t ask me how rape gets worked into every day conversation, because I’m not really sure – a lot of the time it just starts with some internet slang. It’s harmless, really, but it makes me uncomfortable. At lunch the other day, I overheard one of them say “If it comes down to rape, then she deserved it.” I’m not sure of the context, but I think they were joking about one of their girlfriends who wasn’t ‘ putting out’. I don’t know. It upset me. But I can’t really say anything, without sounding like I’m trying to be an attention whore. And that’s not the image I want to have here.


I’ve been sick a lot recently. Almost constantly. That’s why I swear I’m dying.

I think its stress related, mostly. My immune system has always been a piece of shit, but this really can’t be helping. I’m losing my hair, too. I throw up a lot, or lose consciousness, and standing up makes me black out from being dizzy. My legs seem to be wobbly a lot, and my knees have been worse then usual. Generally, I feel weak. Kind of like my limbs are made of jelly. It’s hard to breath sometimes, and it feels like there’s a vice grip on my lungs. My heart races randomly, which is scary, and my shaking and twitches have gotten out of control. I’m losing weight dramatically – normally I wouldn’t complain, but I’ve dropped five pounds in a little over 7 days before. As much as I appreciate being thinner, I’m scared permanent damage is being done. My head hurts a lot, too. Migraines that last for weeks on end – though they’re all tension based, not noise. That’s good, at least. I don’t think I’d manage without music.

I’m not sleeping anymore. Or sleeping too much. That is, I generally am up for days on end, but when I finally crash, I’m out for hours. I slept a whole day, once. That’s not normal for me. My nightmares have gotten out of hand, ‘out of hand’ being perhaps the most drastic understatement I can manage right now. I’m afraid to sleep, and when I do, the nightmares always come. I either can’t wake up, or I do, then fall asleep and go right back into it again. When I finally get up, they stay with me. For weeks, sometimes. Or they don’t go away at all. It’s horrifying. And recently, maybe the past two weeks, I’ve had this one repeating nightmare – one of the worst nightmares I’ve ever had. It’s the only dream I’ve been able to have. Stuck on repeat, every night. I guess I sound like I’m bitching. I guess most people would think it was weird, acting like this over something that’s just a dream. I wish I could explain it properly, but I can’t. It feels real, I can feel the pains, the touch of his hands, I can hear the sounds of the city, see the little cracks in the concrete, feel the sweat, breathing – it’s most real then real life, sometimes. It’s scary. That’s the best way I can sum it up.


I know this will probably sound so melodramatic, but I feel dead these days.

I want to go home – and I don’t mean the one that’s burnt down. I want to go home, not where I’m living, or lived. I don’t want to sound like I’m just talking because I crave attention – and I want people to stop treating me like I’m not allowed to be upset. I don’t want to be afraid to speak, or to feel, or to breath. I want to stop being afraid of people that can’t hurt me anymore. I want to sleep without having to be afraid. I want a hug, or a shoulder to cry on, or someone saying ‘I love you’ to my face, or at least ask me if I’m alright and mean it. I want someone to care. I want to stop crying all the time, or feeling scared, abandoned, and hated. I want to stop feeling so alone.

I miss Katrina.


I wish I could say that I don’t care what you think of me for acting like this, but I’d be lying. I wish I could say that I felt better about getting it all out like I usually would, but I wouldn’t be telling the truth there, either. I don’t really know what compelled me to write this, to be honest, but I guess I really wanted to share. I posted this same entry on every journal I have. I guess I felt it was important. Who knows? I don’t.

I’m sorry. I want to have something better to say to people all the time, other than this. But it’s the only thing I seem capable of these days.

So, I’m sorry everyone. I know I promised I wouldn’t bring my issues on to the internet, but that obviously didn’t work out too well. I don’t like not being able to keep my word.


I’m sorry.