May 31, 2003.
it keeps coming back.
i've started monitering my mood to see if i can figure out a pattern for this depression. i am so fucking sick of going through the same thing over and over again.
"maybe you should talk to someone, maybe they can help you." he said.
"it's bullshit, what can they do, change the past?"
"no, but maybe they can change your view of it."
i question the integrity of the counsellors, the psychologists. what the fuck do they know, have they ever actually been through this? sure, some might have, but not the ones i have encountered. how can they help me.
my childhood catches up with me. my past catches up with me. everything has arrived all at once and maybe it will never go away. maybe i should have done something more lethal as a kid than simply trying to inhale concentrated aerosol sprays. maybe i should have tasted some of that floor cleaner my mother kept in the bathroom cupboard.
i remember sitting in the toilet for hours with the cupboards open, staring at the red letters that spelt poison on the side of the white gallons. i stared at them until the letters started dancing before my eyes. my mother never knew what her seven year old daughter was thinking. nobody knew.
at the heights of it i think one day, one day it will all be too much. not now, but one day. really there is no other way i see myself dying - this will be the way. when, i don't know, but one day my mind will finally be at peace.