My Journal. (Jalbert)

7

Monday 12:34 am

Sundays. Probably my worst days. No particular reasons, just the way I am. I had a full on mental breakdown before writing in this. That's why it's really earlier on Monday.

I kept thinking about Albert mostly. How Lana could be snogging him right now. I want to fucking snog him. I hate her. She's not even that good of a friend. Last year on my birthday she got me the Nintendo switch with only 1 game. Like really? 1 game?

God, that's such a fucking lie. I love her. As a friend of course. I just wish someone could see how I really feel. Once in awhile ask how I'm doing. My parents ask and yeah it's cool but what about someone else? My parents only know about this depression shit because of a phone call I had with the suicide hotline.

Fucking cell trackers I swear.

It's my fault though. Everything is. The reason my life at 15 has already ended. The reason my grades are so far down in the system. The reason I have to write in this stupid fucking journal. The reason I have to see a therapist. It's all my fault.

Everyday I look at those fucking scars. I remember how fucking stupid and weak I was to do that. I mutilated my own body but what people don't understand is why I did it. I want to live. I didn't do it because I wanted to die. I did it to stop myself from dying. This shit makes no fucking sense. It's true though.

I just want someone who is willing to listen. I didn't ask for any of this. I should be thankful I'm "getting help" but I'm not. If anything, I feel worse than before. Nobody fucking understands what its like to live with this dark cloud over your head constantly. Where nothing you do matters. Where you have no meaning. I'm just existing. Nobody fucking understands. I'm not sad. I'm not angry. I'm not anything.

I'm just emotionless.

It's not that I don't lack empathy it's just I feel, how you say, neutral? It's like when you're sitting at home doing nothing. You don't feel content nor sad. You're such neutral.

And I feel neutral 24/7. Sure I laugh but laughing is just screaming to me. Like I'm screaming at people to listen to me. Hear what I have to say.

I'm surprised no ones seen these damn scars. I change in gym everyday and nobody fucking notices it. I've broken down in the middle of class before but nobody cares to ask what's wrong. Not even my friends. They all just see this sociable funny asshole of a persona. They don't see me. The real me.

It's my fault though. I'm the one who chooses to hide away everything. All emotion. I'm just Jake; the funny guy who never eats at lunch. To them at least.

They never see me dig my nails deep into my skin. They never see me shed tears. They never see my scars. They never see anything. No one fucking does.

The worst part about all of this is that there is no reason. There is no thing that fucked me up earlier in life. There is no thing that has made me want to die. I have literally no reason whatsoever for the way I feel inside.

Nobody understands that. Neither do I to be honest. I don't understand how a person like me could be so fucking depressed for no reason at all. I've heard stories of what others have gone through and I can't relate a single bit. I'm just that normal white boy that got the short end of the stick with depression.

Nobody sees through me. Nobody knows me. Nobody cares for me. Nobody needs me.