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This diary entry is written by Kablammo_Dude. ( View all entries )
Previous entry: Anxiety in category (general)

The other meCategory: (general)
Sunday, 25 September 2011
02:48:12 PM (GMT)
Another day, another happy Michael shown to the world.
The guy that laughs, that jokes around, that doesn't seem to let anything get to
I wish you could see inside his mind.
I wish you could live inside his head for a while.
I am sick and tired of living two different lives.
The one people see, and then what actually is happening.
I realized today that I need help.
I don't know where to start.
Who to ask, what to do.
I can have a perfect day.
Being completely relaxed and happy.
All it takes is one simple thing to alter my entire being.
I feel the panic set in.
The anger.
The anxiety.
The deep, disturbing, depression that sends violent thoughts to my brain, causing my
muscles to twitch.
I try my best to put on a happy face, to laugh, to seem normal.
I do a pretty damn good job of it.
Inside are the most violent thoughts I could ever imagine.
I was going to hit him today.
I was going to stab him.
I was going to pick him up by his neck and punch him until he was unconscious. 
I was going to fucking kill him.
So I left.
At least I have enough of me left to know when I am not myself.
I can't even fucking type.
Jesse needs to leave me and never talk to me again.
I have helped her, she can live a normal life now.
It would be best for her.
When I can't control who I am, I can't control how I treat her and I am already
discovering that.
I don't want to be alone.
I just want her to live the life she deserves.
I doubt she would ever leave me.
She loves me too much.
These thoughts will not leave.
I will sit here with them for a while.
I hope I never see him again.
He is her friend.
It doesn't make sense.
If I see any guy put a damn finger on her, I lose my mind.
I'm okay, though.
Just obsessive.
Whatever you want to call it, I can't live like this.
I think about killing myself a lot these days.
I couldn't do that to my friends and family.
I couldn't do that to Jesse.
I just want these to go away.
Not just for a few days.
The time fucking drags by so slowly.
I am home now, waiting for Tom and Chelsy to get off so I can take them home.
Jesse is still up there.
That bothers me for some reason.
Everything bothers me.
Well not me.
Am I him?
Technically right now I am.
But I can think of him as someone else.
What the fuck am I talking about?
I need to drink
I won't.
I need to cut
I won't
I need a lot of things, but instead I will just lay here.
Typing is the only thing keeping me from drifting back into him.
Typing is saving my life right now.
Typing is preventing a lot of harm to myself, and especially others.
Thank you keyboard.
Thank you computer.
Thank you Kupika.
If I didn't have anywhere to put my thoughts, then I would actually have to live with
No peace.
Nothing but negativity.
Ahhh I don't want to stop typing.
Nobody has any idea.
I just need to keep typing, random thoughts, words, anything.
As long as I type, I don't think.
This is better than nothing, I suppose.
Just another hour or so perhaps.
I need to just let it all pass in an instant, then she can come over.
I need her in my arms.
Worse than I ever have.
I need to relax.
She will make me better.
She always does.
Why can't I live without her?
This is not a healthy relationship, whatsoever.
This is fucking obsession.
I was doing some research this morning into why I am like this.
I have the symptoms of a lot of different things.
But not exactly anything.
I don't know.
Maybe I never will. 
I don't want to tell my parents.
I don't want to be on some stupid medication.
I don't want to be treated any differently.
I just want to be me again.
I guess I have to stop typing now.
Oh well.
I will stare at the ceiling.
Please ignore this diary.
It wasn't me.
It was him.
The other me.
So in a way.
It is me.
This is who I am.
OR who I wish I wasn't.

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