Worst of it is that I know I'm not thinking straight, but I don't know what to do. I have been called "inscrutable," when I'm like this, and it's true. I go around smiling, working harder than usual, being friendly... lying to people about how I am, sometimes. And sometimes being entirely too forward with other people, people who barely know me, and I dump on them. I have to stop that. It makes me feel bad.

 

In fact, about everything I do right now makes me feel bad, except maybe staying in my room. I'm going to hate myself more if I can't shape up by Saturday... geez, I better just quit thinking about that, or I'm going to break myself, for the third time this week. Fun fact: "crying oneself to sleep" is not just a figure of speech.

 

This is... inexcusable of me. Because I should either do this, break, and not feel bad about *that,* or not break at all. But instead I break and feel bad for breaking, in addition to being sorry for every one of my actions and facet of my existence. I'm sorry for typing this whole entry, in fact. And I thought I was giving up worrying for Lent. What a terrible liar I am, eh?

 

So, anyway... this isn't making me happier, either. Nothing does. This comes and goes without a nod from me, and I shouldn't have expected this to help, either. But that's the ugly part: you've still got hope. A simpering, pathetic hope, but hope nonetheless.

 

So, gameplan from here, boys and girls, is this: try not to do anything drastic to myself, weather this internal storm, and... hey, while I'm at it, pull off a front towards anybody else I see from now until this dies down. That's it for me. Hope you're all doing peachy.