My fun Toronto weekend turned into my personal hell. From the ride there to the way back, everything just seemed to get worse.
It didn't end when I got home.
I've now felt the closest thing to actual hate that I've ever felt. It's an evil, painful feeling. Sharp knives stabbing my insides. The crying hasn't yet ended; it resurfaces when I'm just not ready for it.
Rock bottom. I'm here.
It's starting to feel like everyone is out to get me. Things manage to get marginally better, and then the ground comes out from beneath me. And everything becomes so much worse than I could've imagined.
I couldn't get out of bed this morning. I hadn't slept, but getting up felt like a death sentence. I can't eat. I can hardly breathe. I've stopped caring.
To those involved in their own little ways, I do hope you are happy. You broke me, and should be so very proud. Write home to your parents and tell them how well you did. You're an accomplished shell of a human, lacking compassion and a functioning heart. Trust that you will fall one day.
I give up. There's nothing left to fight for, and I've lost the strength. Everything I've known is a lie. How do I face that? The pain is too much right now... all I can do is hope for better, someday.
To you, I am nothing at all.