just last night i stopped moving. i just sat there and stared into space. i couldn’t have cared less for the world, nor myself. even breathing seemed like such hard work.
BREATHING = HARD WORK THAT I CAN’T BE BOTHERED DOING!
what is wrong with me? i tried to get up, and just managd to roll onto the floor. i didn’t want to do anything. actually, i wanted to turn on my cd player and listen to the LOTR soundtrack, but i couldn’t be bothered getting up.
this morning i started writing questions into my diary (an actual book that i write in, not my LJ). these are the questions i wrote:
1. What’s the point of watching the guy install the cable?
2. Why do I need to clean my room when I’m the only one that goes in there?
3. Why am I immediately blamed when my mum can’t find something?
4. Why do i feel that everything is a chore? Including breathing?
5. What’s the point of my life when all I seem to cause is pain and misery?
6. Why do I hate myself so much?
what is wrong with me…?