24 lines
1.9 KiB
HTML
24 lines
1.9 KiB
HTML
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<!doctype html>
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<html>
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<head>
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<title>Zk | [no subject]</title>
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<link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="/style.css" />
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<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width" />
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<meta charset="utf-8" />
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</head>
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<body>
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<main>
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<header>
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<h1>Zk | [no subject]</h1>
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</header>
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<article class="content">
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<p><span class="tag">diary</span> <span class="tag">livejournal</span> <span class="tag">fossils</span></p>
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<p>This has to be the worst attack I've had since 6th grade. What little bit I was getting from Michael (who is in no way at fault for this - so don't even think of appologizing) earlier seems to have triggered something. At the risk of sounding angsty, here goes: these are quite simply the most vivid suicidal thoughts I've had yet - everything from wondering how much it'd hurt to be stabbed with a soldering iron to whether it might be better to kill myself like they kill kosher cows: with a sharp blade to the neck, so that all they feel is dizziness and falling asleep as the blood drains; these are the worst thoughts regarding school I've had yet this year, mostly tied to the emotions of helplessness and pointlessness; and this is the most scared I've been, period. I've got it running in the background (heh, yeah, ctrl-z; bg emotions) right now, and I'm going to try and let it run itself out. I staggered out of bed, crying (imagine that..), to go look for sleepytime tea so that maybe I could sleep it off, but I couldn't find that, so instead I'm going to write it out - express myself and all that, while perhaps trying to garner some pity. Maybe I could pick up on that instead, so that I could realize what a sorry dolt I must seem like and just snap out of it</p>
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</article>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2004-03-31 00:30:21</p>
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</footer>
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</main>
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</body>
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</html>
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