It feels unbearable... Feels like a battle inside me and I know that it's all in my head, that I can make myself feel better if I just change my outlook, fix my perspective. Focus on the positive. Give it to God. But it hurts so so so much, like a massive lump I'm trying to keep down in my throat. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to tear my hair out and my room out and my heart out.  I give up, it's more than I can stand. I feel like my sanity hangs on such a thin thread. I'm just barely hanging on--surviving on so little. I want to get better but this isn't going away. It feels like a lie when I try to tell myself that I'll be okay, that it's okay, that I can do this. I don't want to feel this anymore. I want to be fucking happy, please. I don't want to feel anything if this is what I feel constantly. As I write this down I feel on the verge of breakdown. I'm surrounded by the people I love and they have no fucking clue. I'd like to just let it out but they'll ask questions I'm not ready to answer. I'm such an idiot. I thought I was getting better but I was just fooling myself... Repression is a funny thing. My sutures have been opened again and I feel myself spinning out of control. Reeling into darkness all over again. Trying to keep my head above water. Trying to hold it together but I feel so broken, so empty, so fucking distraught. I want to feel good again but my mind and my heart won't let me. I'm wondering if I should seek professional help but I'm still uncomfortable with the idea, and I'm not sure I want my parents in on that. I could really use a vacation, too. I need to get out of here... Go somewhere where I can write and wander and, I don't know, fix myself. I wish I had a relative or friend or someone who could take me in and let me cry as much as I wanted. Someone who could fight this with me. I love my sister, I really do. And I see how hard she tries to keep me afloat but she's young and hasn't lived much, and I'm not sure she can truly grasp how devastating this is for me. I can't do this. I can't. I wish I could write. This fucking blog has turned into a diary. I guess it helps, a little. I can't do anything until I pull myself together and make myself right. Health comes first, and if I can't write, I can't write. It'll come back. I'm just so tired of hurting all the time.