I am a rock.

Today I got my nose pierced and wore a dress.

I'd say that constitutes a good day.

Time to be selfish.

For what feels like the first time in my life I am going to put myself first.

I am ill. I won't get better unless I give myself a break, cut myself some slack and let myself off the hook for once.

This isn't me using my illness as an excuse, or opting out of things because I can't be bothered. This is me making a serious decision about my future. The way I look at it I have two options:

1) Keep going as I am, keep myself sick and end up making myself worse in the long run.

2) Take some time out, do things for myself and prevent things getting worse in the future.

I'm not superman. I can't do everything.

This is my body telling me that I can't cope. I've been ignoring it for far too long and it's time I listened.

So for once in my life, I am going to be an entirely selfish being. If I don't feel I can do something, I will tell someone I'm not up to it.

I am going to stop comparing myself to other people. Maybe I'm not as strong as everyone else, maybe I am wired differently. That's neither a good thing nor a bad thing. It just is. It's not my fault, it's out of my control. I must stop blaming myself.

I won't let this beat me.

(Who am I trying to convince? You or me?)

"I'm vulnerable, I'm vulnerable
I am not a robot
You're loveable, so loveable
but you're just troubled"

I am not a robot.

"You've been acting awful tough lately,
Smoking a lot of cigarettes lately,
but inside you're just a little baby."

Breakthrough.

I can't work out of this is a good thing or not. I don't want to use it as an excuse and I'm determined to everything I did before. I just can't shake the feeling that this is a sign to slow the fuck down.

Something has got to give.

But what?

also

I take it back. I feel completely defined by the last three weeks. I think that's who I am.

I'm scared.

Hello square one.

I'm not sure about today. It was good in terms of people, no awkwardness, no issues. Now I'm home I feel horrible and I don't know why. I have (almost) everything I thought I was lacking, and yet I still feel terrible.

When I said "I'm getting there", I lied. I'm nowhere near "there" - wherever the bloody hell that is. I wish someone knew.

Maybe nothing will shift this.

That scares me.

There are no beautiful suicides...

just cold corpses with shit in their pants
and the end of the gifts.