People tell me I'm not alone with everything I am dealing with. People offer to help me. People...We are all alone with ourselves. Its just you and me. And by you, I mean me, and by me, I mean I. I'm the only one here. I'm the only one inside my head. Yeah he may be in the hospital, everyone may be in the hospital, but I'm the only one thinking about that time my mom hit me with a belt because I wasn't studying for my talmud final. I'm the only one with me when I think about the UW police coming in my room. I'm the only one. Sometimes I feel like I just can't do this anymore. The facade of being happy is fickle, and I am just going to colapse. That's how I feel. I can't fucking show that to you. Come look at my sink if you want to see it. Look at me. You can't see it. You can't show it. You don't know anything. Anger? Fuck you. What do you do? WHAT DO I DO? FUCK IF I KNOW. Watching Trainspotting, or 24 Hour Party People, or Clockwork Orange isn't going to cut it. When the surreal becomes real you can't get out. If Dali's world started melting, if Buenel was attacked by chickens and his mother in his dreams, they would shit their pants. They wouldnt know what to do. I hate it that things become life. It never is life. It's highschool is life, its your job, its college, it is always something other than life that is life. WHY CAN"T IT JUST FUCKING BE LIFE. It always has to be something else. Explain that? You read this. Fuck you. FUCK ALL OF YOU. I'm just rambling. Rambling. Why is it so cold here? And why is it that the cold has nothing to do with the paleness of peoples skin? Why do I feel so intoxicated when I'm not intoxicated? I hate pretending like life works. LIFE IS NOTHING. I thought when I was depressed I was onto something. Like I saw a problem no one else saw. And when I wasn't depressed I thought that when I was depressed I wasn't rational. I don't know what I was, but there is a problem with the world people don't see. There is a problem. Ignore it, everyone does. And find excuses for focusing on it. But when it keeps on creeping up at you, when something that does not exist wakes you up at night. When something that does not make any sense turns your skin white, makes you puke, then tell me it isn't real. Until then...Fuck. I just don't want this anymore. I don't want it. I DONT. I'm alone, you're alone. You can't change the world.