(because I'm not Tired)

2000-10-10

You know I meant to kill myself after the entrance exams. You know that I tried (if it can be called that) in July and failed. What you don't know, perhaps, is that it was completely clear to me, afterwards, that I would try again quite soon. I could go on and on about the reasons why I think it's necessary and desirable, but that's not really relevant right now. So I came here (this town) secure in the knowledge that I'd be dead within a month or two, possibly after a bit longer time, in the worst case. I didn't come here to study, I came here to kill myself. I mean, yeah, I thought it'd be cool to do Uni stuff for a while, check it out, and then when it'd become too much (I knew it would because I really can't deal with certain things and I know it), then I'd kill myself.

I kinda liked the lectures at first; you know how you like things that aren't horrible but aren't anything nice either because you know you only have to be around for a short period? I dunno. Maybe you have no idea. Anyway.
It got too much when I heard about the presentation. Whatever else I can manage, I can't manage a 15-minute presentation, in English, in front of all those people. I couldn't give you a 15 minute presentation if you asked me to. So my first thought was 'oh, no!' and the sencond 'that's it, I've had enough'.

So the thing I had been turning over in my mind for the past two months or so finally turned into a reasonable (or so I thought) plan. I figured I had quite good possibilities of completing it, both because I really wanted to and because I kinda had to. The presentation, which is my last limit, is in March, but that's not as far away as it might seem. Especially not with my rate of failure.

So I gave it a try. Two tries, with different methods, to be specific. The third I skipped because I felt too ill and desperate and tired so I just went to bed instead. Sleeping didn't help, but then, nothing does.

So tha't how I spent the last week and a half. I'm not going to explain what went wrong, but it's merely my own fault. I can't find even weak excuses for it, there simply isn't anyone to blame but myself. It's horribly depressing, frightening, sickening, shameful and disappointing. It makes me want to curl up and scream. I don't really feel much like doing real-life things right now, and I don't feel much like talking to anyone either.

I'm ashamed and I feel quite guilty (and angry). And once again, it's merely my fault. That's why I went and bought a new set of razor blades yesterday. After all, there isn't much to lose anymore.

I'm trying to rebuild spindrift. Slowly. It's nowhere near completed yet so don't complain about broken links.