But I'm not dead yet, and that sort of surprises me.

My birthday made me really unhappy. Most everyone forgot. I told everyone else not to make a big deal out of it. And then no one made any deal out of it and I got really depressed. Talk about shooting yourself in the foot, or more likely the head.

I didn't get one present for my birthday. I don't want pity. I want to change.

I've been trying so hard to change. Not anything physical or material; I'm attempting to change how I think. And it seems like so little to everyone around me. D supports me, encourages me. But I don't know if I'm capable of it. Sometimes I just want to kill myself. No self-pity here. Really. I'm just such a useless fuck.

But I hope each day will get better. And every once in a blue moon it does. And I don't care. I want an easy out. And I won't let myself take it. I need change quicker than I am capable of it.

I got laid tonight. And last night. This should make me happy.

I made a major "breakthrough" in therapy the other day. And I lost it. I lose everything important. I could be so much if I applied myself. But most of the time I would rather mix some white powder with some bitter black tar, cook it up and stick a spike into my arm and forget everything. I've been doing a great job avoiding doing this, but it doesn't mean I don't want to.

I hate myself and i hate sounding like a fucking 12 year old girl.

But things have been getting closer to getting better. Dexter helps me out in so many ways I will never be able to express my gratitude for or reciprocate, but I love him like no other.

I have no friends. I want some.

I want black. I want nothingness. I want heroin. I want death. I want to not sound like a fucking goth moron. I'm way way way cooler than that.

And I'm happy sometimes now. I've never been happy before. And I think I'm getting closer.

I WILL be the person I want to be.