I don't remember what I told myself or why I did otherwise, but 5 years ago instead of saying goodbye I said hello. I guess I should read my first journal entry here, but I doubt that will give me any clues. I didn't want anyone to know. I've had more high's and low's since then. Definitely a lot of high's in the last few years, but now I wonder what next. I'm bored, I think I just alienated a potential life long love and at the very least a long time friend, and now I feel like I'm back to the way I used to feel. I thought it went away.
I can say it's true every time, but it is always the worst. It always feels the worst and seems unbearable. And not even just losing out on whatever grand idea I was having, but just this plain old feeling. The only problem is trying to find an excuse to justify it. I can't remember the last time I had a panic attack, or what I felt like one was, but I know that I had one today. And I wish it would go away.
So what do I do now?
I guess what I've always done. I just keep trying to move. There are reasons to stop, but I guess I have some morbid curiosity of what awaits next. I know there will be plenty of bad to remember, but somehow things balance out and there is good somehow. I never believe it, but it's there. Maybe it's because I forget that I feel bad and suddenly can see the good around me, but it's hard to believe it's there. At times I don't even want it to be there. That way at least I've justified what I've felt again.
I disabled my Multiply account. I tried to get rid of this one too, but it was too hard so I had to give up and just say I would let it be. Somewhere there's a post that says that no matter what I wanted this to be around in case it could ever be of use to someone. I'm so conflicted because I don't want it to be here. I don't want anyone to see my pain. Yet I want those others that are in the same pain to see that there was something.
Gosh, you know what? It isn't even 5 years ago. It has been 6. It was January 3rd, 2004. I didn't look. I know. I remember the day it came. The gun permit that is. I researched. I had it all planned out. But here I am still. I probably have enough pills that I could take and come to the same result. I've thought of it. I wouldn't admit it, but I have. The same things that are supposed to help could also be the things that help me gain another result. How odd isn't it?
How I've been so stubborn to keep going through the motions despite the tragedy is beyond me. Part of me must be a masochist for continuing on. To be so miserable but still go on? That's sick. I can understand that pain and sorrow is a part of life, but to what intensity? Then again, I've argued that my bad experiences have been equal to things that just seem incomparable and silly.
That's all for now. I think this is all I'll have been able to think for this night. And no, there is no checking up on me. Things might not be fine, but I certainly might not resort to what some might think.