Going to bed Scribbled down on Thursday, 8 September 2005 3:30:30 AM
Dearest diary, Half past three in the morning and I want to write awhile to you before I take in citalopram and join the emptiness that awaits me in the bed. I feel like cutting myself forever and keep on bleeding to be able to face each single day. If I could, I wouldn't wish death. I would not have the effort to wish for it as I was already being weakened but beautifully and gently. It wiped away the pain, it took the soreness inside my heart away. Calmed the messed up cells in my brain. I'd be okay. I will ask my psychologist Friday why my blood dries so fastly. It does, fastly. In not more than a few seconds my blood becomes thick to later get hard. Is it that I am dehydrating? Does it has anything to do with it? I can't wait to die. I just can't wait. I kind of don't have much to tell you than I was wasting my time online, trying to work on the website of this community. It consumed me more. But I was determinate to get it done and it prevented to grief over people not worth grieving for. Sleep tight and till tomorrow when I feel more like talking, tonight I don't.

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