I’m going to see my psychologist tomorrow, like I do every Thursday. One of the first things she’s going to ask me is “How have your moods been since I saw you last?”

Problem: Do I lie and tell her that they’ve been fine? That the doubling of my medication is working great and that I’ve had the motivation to even get out of bed, and that I haven’t thrown up every night and then cried myself to sleep? Or do I tell her the truth: That the voices are getting louder, and I’m seeing people that aren’t real everywhere I look. That I’m lonelier than ever and I’m scared I’m making all of these voices and imaginary people up just so I have someone to listen to. She doesn’t even know I hear them at all. She doesn’t even know they’re there. 

Should I tell her I miss my bestfriend more than anything and that I know she’s just trying to get back at me for cancelling plans and that I’m so paranoid about losing her because I’m such a fucking idiot? Maybe I should tell her I’ve been drinking myself stupid to try and make it all disappear but it really only makes it worse, only I never find that out until it’s too late and I’m crying because I want to be normal. 

But we all know I’ll just say “Yeah, not too bad.”

Fuck me. I don’t know what’s going on inside my head anymore and I’m so sick of trying to figure it out. Somebody else can take over for a while. 

It’s been one of those weekends. You know the ones where you drink so much alcohol you’re sober again by the time you’re done, and you smoke so much pot you don’t care? But no matter how drunk or stoned you get, you never stop hurting. And then once it’s all said and done, you feel even worse because you couldn’t just forget about it all for just one weekend.

I feel like shit. I’m somehow still stoned, and not in a good way. Everything is getting closer and hotter and they’re all telling me it will be okay, just relax. But they’re not real. They’re only in my head but they’re so loud. I want to believe them and feel safe, but who could feel safe in this brain of mine? To be honest, I don’t know what the hell is going on with me. My mind isn’t my own anymore. It belongs to someone who doesn’t give a shit. Someone who talks to imaginary voices and sees people much the same.

I don’t belong anymore. I used to belong, but now I just go through life with no real purpose. I think one of the main reasons I want to die is because I don’t want the responsibilities that come with life. I don’t want to let everyone down. I have no motivation to do anything or become anyone great. So I don’t want to just cruise through failing at everything. I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to be any person. I don’t want to be here.

I feel like I’m back to square one, with no way out. I’m stuck in the this fucking rut and the worst part is that I’m so used to it now that it feels almost comforting to be in this little hole on my own, with nothing to worry about besides my impending doom.

I just want a boyfriend. Someone to love me and cuddle with, and someone who’s down to party with me but tells me everything and someone who I can love comfortably. Oh my god I miss having that. Oh poo I’m so ronery.

I was just telling my Mum about the documentary I watched on DMT, and she seemed like she was interested in it and even asked if she could watch it. She then asked me why I do drugs, and what the appeal of it is. So I said, “It might sound stupid to you, but I just like to think of things a different way. Just perceive things differently for a little while and get a whole new perspective on the way things are. It only happens when I’m on drugs.”

Nobody has ever asked me that before, and I never thought of an answer for it either.